


The Curtain of Dust

by InkuisitivSkins



Series: The Cross Fade [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aerugo, Alchemical Soldiers, Canon-Typical Violence, Chimeras, Conspiracy, Established Relationship, F/M, History, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Romance, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-04-19 05:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14229948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkuisitivSkins/pseuds/InkuisitivSkins
Summary: While the war with Drachma is over and Amestris is beginning to rebuild its relationship with Ishval, Olivier, the newly-promoted Chief of Foreign Diplomacy, doesn't quite get to rest just yet. After a startling discovery is made about Aerugo selling arms to Drachma during the war, it seems as if the so-called peaceful trade country of the south is not going to let its border war with Amestris be forgotten. However, after a visit to the new prince of Aerugo goes peacefully, Olivier and Miles are informed that the principality is fighting its own war within itself, with both an extremist group brutally attacking the government and a horrible monster terrorizing the streets. For the Lieutenant General and the Colonel, it seems as if Amestris' help is once again needed to quell the insurrection before it all goes to hell.Sequel toThe Northern Theatre.





	1. Overture

All he could do was run.

The increasing volume of the voices behind him heightened his fear and anxiety; the frightening sounds echoing with every word spoken from deep within their polished, slate bodies. They were deep, and frightening, their tones speaking only of savagery and hostility despite him not fully recognizing the Aerugan language.

The bullets nearly missed his bare feet as he struggled his way through the hills of sand. The sun had fled the sky long ago, so at least the stinging, grainy texture was not coupled with the burning heat that the day never ceased to bring. While the shrapnel did not bounce in the ground’s texture, the sand that was kicked up from every missed shot still served to hit his shins and calves; he knew that even if another bullet _did_ hit him, he probably would not realize it because of it.

At the beginning of his flight, he held onto his small, still-bleeding forearm; though he quickly banished the thought and the instinctual need to put pressure on a wound in favor of swinging of his arms, serving to increase his sprinting speed, even if only somewhat. He felt his shallow breath come out in rapid, short puffs; his lungs burning with a muscle in his side stretched and sore.

In the darkness, though the desert was barren save for the occasional large rock, he began to notice structures buried deep within the sand. Initially, they had been few and far between, but now, he was beginning to notice them more often.

If the stories were true, and his memory served, perhaps this would be his ticket to freedom. While many factors hinged on his survival that night, he knew the old ruins of the forgotten Angarii would suffice in both providing him shelter and confusing those pursuing him.

Beginning to slow, his lungs squeezed within his chest, resulting in a wheeze. He turned his head to glance behind him, and upon seeing the large, jagged, dark shapes glinting in the moonlight, he quickened his pace. When he turned back to face the world ahead of him, however, his heart leapt.

As he ascended to the peak of a larger sand dune, he saw the ruins before him. He was sure that in the daytime the remains of the once-great city were eerie, yet bathed in darkness, they were absolutely haunting. All at once, it felt as if all of the souls of the lives lost there simultaneously turned their attention to him; suffocating. Perhaps he was the first person to see the city since it had been buried in ash thousands of years ago; though he doubted it.

However, he knew he was probably the first to delve into its caves and tombs. Heavy superstition was a fog that eternally rest upon the city; he was sure that, even if there had been visitors, none have been as close to the bodies that never quite decayed; frozen in time by the same ash that took their lives.

They, and the nasty spirits said to haunt them, did not bother him. He knew, if anything, they were the least of his worries; not only because the beings following him were the _real_ threats, but Ishvala and his parents would be looking down unto him, guiding his actions and warding off anything else that may supernaturally attempt to reach him.

He led the ones following him through street after street; while he nearly tripped over the uneven stone slabs of the once-busy roads, he still successfully wound his way through every alley and open building his small body could fit into. Finally, once he heard their voices farther away than they had been, he slipped down into what seemed to be a caved-in tomb, the vacuous hole leading into what seemed to be an old tunnel.

While the tap of his small feet hitting the stone below him startled him momentarily, he soon realized that they were too far off to hear the noise. Hurriedly, he felt his way down the tunnel, his hand on the wall, feeling the roughness of the carved stone beneath his fingertips.

Feeling a soft gust of cold air from ahead of him, he figured that the way he was headed led back outside. With no food or water out this far in the desert, he did not plan to make this place his new home-- he figured he would simply wait until he was left alone before venturing out once again.

It, however, was not an opening to the outside-- or, at least, quite yet. The tunnel opened into a large cavern; manmade or not, he could not tell. One thing he did notice, however, was a small hole in the ceiling, from which a shred of moonlight shone through.

In the minimal, low light, it seemed as if he was in a building. The walls, while obviously decayed, were painted with different scenes of human interaction. In the middle of the room sat a table, decorated with beautiful objects and works of art. While they all had not been protected from the tests of time, even in their worn state, they were sights to behold.

His breath caught painfully in his chest when he heard a sound behind him. Spinning on his heels and nearly falling backwards onto the table, he saw the dark figures emerge from the tunnel he had shortly exited. They spoke lowly, and their speech was returned by a similar voice on the opposite side of the room-- somehow, they had not only followed him, but closed up both entrances.

He felt the tears he had during the beginning of his exodus quickly returning, and it felt as if a force had been placed on his chest, not allowing him to breathe. He sobbed, the pitiful sound silent without a breath to back it, as he glanced around the room in terror. There were no other exits he could easily see; just the art of a forgotten culture was left to witness his murder.

The figures advanced slowly, one large foot after another, as he sat helpless in the middle of the room, beneath the soft moonlight. He tried to whisper a prayer to Ishvala, but his mind could not form a thought.

It was then, a deafening sound boomed throughout the entire room, startling everyone inside. In his direct vision, all the boy could see was the figures flinching and cowering, looking beyond him, as a strange pain suddenly burst from the lower half of his body.

The last thing he saw was a flash of enormous, brown scales, before his vision darkened into nothingness.

 

\---

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll still be working on To Serve the Light more so than this, I just wanted to get this out here :)  
> I didn't really edit this LOL so sorry for any mistakes. I'll fix them later. Happy vague worldbuilding.


	2. Blood in the Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I wasn't planning on continuing this until I finished or at least neared the end of To Serve the Light, but here I am I guess? I like the plot for this one a whole lot and while I was considering not writing it for a while I decided I'd at least try to. 
> 
> This is a very set-up-y chapter, but hey, it's the first chapter. If you don't know several things happening in this, go read [The Northern Theatre](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9662246/chapters/21827606) please. I hope you guys enjoy :')

“ _Gee_ , you’d think you were about to take the military entrance exams again with how anxious you’re acting, Miles.”

The comment earned the new general a sharp elbow in the side from his adjutant, her brown eyes glaring at him in silence.

It was her voice, now, that spoke much more gently to the colonel, “Are you nervous?”

A question to which the quarter-Ishvalan nodded, tightening a strap on his horse’s saddle. The subtle wavering in his voice matched the slight, deep-in-thought furrow of his brows, “Is it showing that much?”

“I mean,” Roy drew out his words, “You put the saddles on two of the horses backwards the first time, and _you_ know horses more than either of us. It was a silly mistake; even if it wasn’t nerves, it’s obvious that you’ve got something on your mind.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” was Miles’ only response, causing Riza to glimpse at her superior.

“We should make sure we got everything we needed out of the tents, General,” she spoke up, catching the dark haired man’s attention. He was silent for a split second, mulling over her words and the meaning he knew was behind them, before signaling his understanding with a nod of his own.

The pair stepped away from Miles, leaving him to load up the horses and a mule with their temporary belongings. All three of them knew there was nothing left behind that they would specifically need, though the Ishvalan did not question the major’s reasonings for pulling their commanding officer aside.

As per the usual nowadays, their strictly-business formality dropped once out of earshot, the two officers pretending to scope out their temporary lodgings; a large, beige, military tent.

Riza was glad they were no longer a symbol of destruction where they were now, stationed in the east once again; for this time, though, wholly different reasons than what had occurred fifteen years ago. The fragmented culture of Ishval was slowly healing, as were the buildings in their reconstruction and the people in their return to their homeland. The beige tents and the blue uniforms, while still sending some unease through a few, were now there to piece together what they had broken before.

She knew it wouldn’t fix everything; she didn’t _want_ it to. It would never be made right, but now, she wanted to help these people with everything she had; and she knew Roy, and many others, felt the same way. Their guilt was a catalyst for quick and neat, positive, action.

“Could you go a little easier on him, Roy?” She asked, walking at his side, where she had always been. “Put yourself in his place; you know you would feel the exact same way.”

“Miles is a more openly emotional person than I am, you know,” Roy hummed, shutting up once he felt the dirty look from his partner.

“Really now? If I were alone in Central, pregnant, having to deal with whatever mess is happening there with Aerugo selling weapon to Drachma, and you hadn’t seen me for months, how would you feel?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Roy sighed, briefly glancing inside the tent. Empty of their things, of course. Scar had immediately set up shop inside, putting up tables and filing cabinets and whatnot for meetings that would soon be had. He was fitting in very well; not only with the locals, but also with his new colleagues. He was quiet and gruff, but in the short amount of time the Ishvalan Restoration had been underway, he was beginning to get along somewhat with the military he once sought to cripple. The warming-up was taking its precious time, but everyone, even Scar, was aware of it being present-- the point was that he was open to the change in the first place.

“I know he’s nervous,” he continued, straightening as the flaps of the tent fell closed. “But I’m sure Olivier’s doing fine. She’s probably already raising hell, there’s nothing to worry about.”

His words brought a small smile to Riza’s face, “I’m sure. The nerves are just coming from the standpoint that he hasn’t seen her in, what, three months now? It doesn’t seem like a long time, but considering the circumstances…”

“I know,” Roy spoke again, turning to her, his own small smile reflecting hers. “I know we’re bringing him under the guise of getting business done, but I’m _sure_ he knows at this point that we’re just giving him a free trip to see his wife. We probably won’t be seeing him until it’s time to come home, huh?”

The blonde chuckled softly, amused, “It was Olivier who called for this meeting in the first place. She’ll be working like nothing’s changed, and I’m sure Miles will be at her side just like how he always was at Briggs. He just may be a little more protective of her now.”

“Olivier doesn’t need any extra defense, believe me,” Roy snorted, moving along the line of tents with Riza hot on his trail. They talked amongst themselves as they rounded the perimeter of their camp, watching as those doing manual labor out under the hot desert sun worked. They had recently gotten working plumbing set back up once again in Ishval, so the workers were often seen enjoying themselves with splashes of cool water onto their heads in makeshift outdoor showers. At the moment, they were really just tall, glorified sprinklers, since the weather was too hot to not have them, yet there were no full buildings readily set up to house such piping at the time. They, however, did not mind; if asked, they would instantly say it was happy work, while others would jokingly pull the phrase “it’s not work if you’re enjoying it, right?”

Roy and Riza eventually returned to Miles, right after Riza made a comment about her and Roy starting a family in a similar fashion to Miles, which earned her a nervous laugh from Roy. She should have made the joke earlier, she thought; since they were with Miles once again, it spared her superior from having to respond. _Damn_ , she would have liked to hear what he had to say about that.

“I’m guessing you’re all ready, then? Everyone’s set up here,” Miles spoke after greeting the two, patting the haunch of his horse.

“We’re ready,” Riza replied, Roy beside her nodding in affirmation. The three mounted their horses before pulling the light hoods of their desert-colored robes unto their heads, protecting themselves from the sun. Within a few minutes of double and triple-checking that they had all of the needed supplies for their trek, they were off.

Thankfully, their ride did not take long. The desert area of the East was a wide expanse, and the construction of the railroad and its extension to Ishval was underway, so there was still a need for horses at least part of the way to Central. Once they reached their first destination in Resembool, they dropped the horses off, boarding the train without issue with their belongings in tow.

 

There were still _twenty_ recordings for her to listen to, Olivier realized with a frustrated and defeated pang to the heart. A communications sergeant had set up a makeshift radio on her new desk, where it had unintentionally become the inglorious centerpiece of her otherwise barren office. Armed with the clunky piece of machinery, a notepad, and a pen, she sat pouring over the audio and writing down notes on what she heard.

On one hand, this wasn’t _her_ job. Yet, on the other, it directly affected what _was_ under her jurisdiction.

And, considering these recordings were Amestrian-intercepted signals from Aerugo, this matter _definitely_ fell into her hands, as the new head diplomat of the nation.

Half of the audio had already been written down and loosely translated, thanks to the language studies in Olivier’s youth, yet they had to be run by an actual Aerugan translator before any action could be taken. By the sound of it, it seemed as if he was already finished with the first batch of transcriptions, and was now awaiting the rest of them to be sent in by Olivier.

She frowned, icy eyes scanning a single word as she played the recording back for a fraction of a second. The quality of the audio was abhorrent, with static muddying the voices on the line, even causing common words shared by both Amestris and Aerugo to be nearly incomprehensible.

Repeating it over and over again in her head, she wrote down what seemed to be the word’s phonetic spelling with one hand as she roughly opened her enormous Aerugan-Amestrian dictionary with her other. Deep down in her train of thought, she failed to hear the soft rapping on the door.

“Oh,” she murmured to herself upon realizing someone was requesting to enter. “Come in.”

Instantaneously, her mood brightened at the sight of her husband peeking into the room. She stood from her seat, though he quickly rushed over to her, a similar smile on his face.

“Hey, don’t get up. I want you to rest as much as possible.”

She smirked somewhat, standing anyway, as she was enveloped in a hug by the colonel.

Their embrace was gentle as Miles remained mindful of her state, yet filled with adoration and fondness borne from the distance that had previously been between them.

“In that case, if you saw how much I’ve been working, you’d keel over,” the lieutenant general chuckled softly, drawing back from Miles, allowing him to also lean back, getting a good look at her.

Amusedly, she thought to herself that if he had smiled at her five years ago in the way he was smiling at her now, she would have never had a _chance_ at prolonging the confession of her feelings for as long as she did.

“Look at you,” he breathed, taking in her imagine, up and down. Olivier knew she didn’t look different, really. At the moment, she no longer wore the typical uniform code that included both the shirt and the pants, but the longer overcoat, both as maternity wear and to distinguish her new role in the government. In addition, she had been granted a golden sash that ran from her right shoulder to her left hip along with her promotion and title, further displaying that she, while still an officer in the military, held a much more executive position.

At first, she thought there was now a bit too much gold in her uniform, but she had settled with it on the grounds that, _at least_ , it matched.

“You look lovely,” the quarter-Ishvalan smiled again, tenderly touching the general’s arms.

“You’re not looking too rough yourself,” the Amestrian hummed to him, earning a chuckle. “I suppose Roy let you tag along?”

Suddenly distracted by her stomach, Miles simply nodded, setting a gentle hand on the slight visible bump in the uniform.

“How are they doing?”

“They’re doing fine, but I’m sure you’re embarrassing them with that,” Olivier snorted. “There will be plenty of time for the two of you to get acquainted, don’t worry.”

“This is just the first time I’ve been able to be here with you since you pulled a fast one on me and told me when I was _literally leaving_ Central,” Miles smiled, his eyebrows furrowed somewhat. “Let me enjoy myself and the idea of being a father, please. You’re not allowed to be a killjoy for a few days.”

“ _Oh dear_ , but that’s all I’ve been doing since my transfer,” Olivier gave a short laugh following her sarcasm. “I’m sure they’re already regretting bringing me down here. At least at Briggs, I couldn’t breathe down necks and watch the establishment like a hawk. They're stuck with me now, the fools.”

She didn’t expect Miles to hug her gently once again, this time remaining, burying his nose in her hair. He spoke again, his tone different, as if more solemn, “I missed you.”

Instead of pondering the slight shift in his demeanor, Olivier smiled to herself, returning his embrace in understanding silence. They held one another for a moment, before Miles carefully let go.

“Here, sit with me,” the blonde said, tilting her head in the direction of the only other chair in the room. Nodding and retrieving the chair, just like old times back at Briggs, Miles took a seat beside her.

“What is all this?”

“We’ve intercepted some troubling radio signals from Aerugo,” Olivier replied, carefully taking her seat. “The audio quality of them is awful, so I’m trying to write everything down while translating what I can. That’s what the meeting is about in a few days.”

White eyebrows knit together as Miles inched his chair closer to hers, “You’re calling a meeting over some radio signals that weren’t even directed to us?”

“Well, that’s just the thing. The signals are odd at best-- they aren’t military-coded yet they’re being broadcasted from Aerugo to all corners of Creta and Amestris. Plus, the one word I was able to easily translate was…"

Her eyes darted to his, red and blue meeting, “Troubling.”

“What did it say?”

Turning away from him, Olivier gathered up the dictionary once again, thumbing through it for a brief moment before finding what she was looking for with little effort, as if she had searched for the same word multiple times prior. Placing it back on the table, she pointed a finger to a single line in the middle of the page, amongst walls of text pertaining to different subjects and definitions.

_Doomsday._

  


This scene was not unfamiliar to them. Just months earlier, they all sat in the same large meeting room, where Olivier recounted to all of the high-up officers of Central Command what hell she and a choice squad of her men had been through. She discussed assisting Drachma in what would have soon become a civil war, thus preventing further future all-out warfare with Amestris.

Now, she sat in the center of the seating arrangements, Miles at her side; Roy and Riza not far off as they sat amongst other soldiers. Alongside them in the audience, flanked by his own two assistants, sat Führer Grumman.

“And with _that_ message, especially, we have reason to believe that something sinister is either occurring _now_ or in the near future within Aerugo. Amestris is obviously infamous for its issues with all three of our immediate geographical neighbors, and while it’s true that the border war with Aerugo has been calming down somewhat recently, and they have made several attempts at peace in the past that went ignored under the Homunculi's rule, nothing has been officially settled between us. While we may not see this as a direct _threat_ yet, given that there is no evidence of this being a military signal, the fact that it can be traced all the way to Yoxeqa in the northeast and Pendleton on the Cretian border is disturbing and should absolutely be noted. Not to mention the note we found detailing a transaction between Drachma and Aerugo, where Aerugo sold them arms just as recent as five months ago,” Olivier spoke, her voice raised and steadied as she flipped to a new page in her notes.

Her declaration caused several nods of agreement to ripple throughout the audience.

She felt Miles bristle beside her, and without glancing at him or giving any visible indication towards him, she nudged his foot gently beneath the table. She wasn’t sure why he seemed so tense; perhaps it was because, since Grumman abolished the fraternization laws, their relationship had become more known. They were never affectionate in uniform out in public, yet the idea was still unfamiliar to them, and the idea that, while there was no big announcement, some people knew, was somewhat unnerving.

Roy and Riza got away with the unease that came with the newness of the situation for multiple reasons; for one, the public had both suspected and or joked about them being together for years, so the idea was not new like it was with Olivier and Miles, and two, Riza wasn’t very obviously with child.

Miles tapped her foot in reply, easing her worries. 

“In addition, the fact that an Aerugan radio signal reached as far as Yoxeqa means there may be someone of Aerugan origin within our country manually expanding the reach of the broadcast. While this may just be an immigrant, or a spy, we have no way of knowing-- so I propose that, for now, we tighten security on the southern border in addition to taking steps to further secure our own radio lines. Whether it is through--”

A knock at the door immediately silenced her, her expression brimming with annoyance at the interruption, as every eye in the room simultaneously turned.

After an angry signal from Olivier, the soldier manning the door opened it. Upon doing so, another frantic soldier-- a young sergeant-- nearly poured into the room.

Catching himself, he snapped a salute to the whole room of soldiers, all far above him in rank, “Permission to enter!”

“What,” Olivier snapped back.

“Communications has just received a direct call from Aerugo, Lieutenant General.”

The expectant silence of the room was immediately broken by a chorus of hushed whispers.

“What did it say?” Olivier asked, her eyes narrowing, briefly glancing at Grumman, who returned her look with an equally suspicious one.

“It’s from Prince Salvatore’s advisor, he has requested a council with the Führer. He said it’s urgent.”

 


	3. Land of the Twin Eagles

Miles stood outside of the door, his back against the wall, as he waited in patient silence.

He could hear several voices within, and was able to distinguish the genders between them, but besides the single female voice of the lieutenant general, he could not make out exactly who was speaking or what was being said. Not that it mattered; he knew Olivier would catch him up on whatever the discussion over the radio was about.

About an hour and a half earlier, almost immediately after the meeting was cut short, she had entered the room with Roy and Grumman to hold a brief radio conference with the Aerugan prince’s advisor. While Miles had no idea what it could be about, or if the message the Aerugan had was a positive or negative one, he knew that they all had been speaking to one another for quite a while.

He had not been allowed inside; the only people present were the Führer, the five-star general, and the Chief of Foreign Diplomacy. Miles knew that whatever would be coming of this private discussion, no matter if it would be peace or war, Roy would be stationed with Olivier-- she had told Miles the night before that Grumman wanted the two of them to deal with their matters together, and to get used to working with one another, to her vexation. In all honesty, it made Miles question how long Grumman planned to stay in office, since Roy was the obvious successor of his title besides Olivier, who wanted “nothing to do with such as vulnerable position” as Führer.

Finally, the door opened, the blonde woman exiting.

“Hey,” Miles said carefully, immediately examining her face, attempting to gather as much information as possible about the radio call just through her expression alone. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Olivier said, coupled with a small smile and a sigh.

“What happened?”

“Looks like I’m going to be on the road again,” she moved out of the way of the door, coming to stand in front of him.

He saw how tired she looked, and with one hand on her shoulder, Miles gently turned her to the hallway before them, urging her to begin walking. As far as he knew, she didn’t have any other matters to attend to that day; she could use the rest.

“What do you mean?”

“The Aerugan advisor told us that they’ve been having some big issues with some rebels acting all sneaky and suspicious. Apparently, they’ve already carried out several small terrorist attacks within major cities, but the government can’t seem to find out who is actually responsible.”

Miles sighed, “So, I suppose they want our help?”

“That’s right,” Olivier replied, her eyes lowered somewhat, her body obviously yearning for rest. She didn’t look like she was feeling too well, but that was to be expected.

“What, do they think we’ll readily help them? After they were prepared to deal arms to Drachma?”

“I was about to say that to him, but then the advisor said that if we assisted them, they would drop all of the charges held against us for the border wars; not only for the damages done by the war in general, but also Amestris’ failure to accept peace negotiations. That failure on our part is _dangerous_ , it violates many international rules about warfare and if we weren’t already friends with Xing and Drachma at this point, it would absolutely turn every neighboring country against us. It’s an enormous deal and I’m just honestly stunned that they’re even considering it, but that shows how desperate they are.”

The quarter-Ishvalan’s red eyes widened in surprise, “It sure sounds like it… Are you okay to travel, though? And will it be safe?”

A question, to which, Olivier nodded, “I’ve actually been having more energy than usual, so now’s as good a time as any, I suppose. And I trust it’ll be safe, I still told Grumman I would need some men with me, but I don’t think Aerugo wouldn’t try anything while we’re there. Not only are crimes against diplomats against international law, but it would be _so_ obvious if something happened to us while we were there. Amestris has been ahead in the border wars for years, not to mention such a powerful nation as Xing siding with us; Aerugo wouldn’t have a chance if we proposed all-out warfare, they wouldn’t risk anything.”

“Quick thinking,” Miles smiled somewhat as he continued leading her down the hallway. She seemed to understand his gesture, since she turned to enter the elevator without his prompting.

They each stepped inside, turning and watching the elevator doors close ahead of them.

“Grumman said to take Roy with me,” Olivier huffed, leaning her back against the wall. “Bastard.”

“Roy or Grumman?” Miles questioned, amusedly.

“Both of them. At least Riza will come, too,” Olivier sighed. “Maybe then she’ll be able to reign in her dog. Keep him busy so he doesn’t find time to bug me.”

A soft chuckle caught her attention, causing her to glance up at Miles.

He returned her look with a smile, “So, can I come?”

“Did you even have to ask?” The blonde smiled somewhat in return, though it strengthened once her longtime partner bent slightly to her, their lips meeting.

 

The gentle bumps and rumble of the train as it moved were surprisingly calming, Olivier thought, as she gazed out the window, occasionally nibbling on a piece of bread. Miles shifted beside her; she thought he had dozed off, but she supposed he was awake now.

In their private sleeper train car, Miles had watched fondly as Olivier instantly took to nesting the moment they were settled in, even before the train had started rolling. She took the pillows from both sides of the car, making a back rest for herself so she was sitting rather upright, yet still supported comfortably. In addition, she had stolen Miles’ coat and had it draped across herself like a blanket, with no complaints from him.

She glanced at him, finishing her bread. He smiled sleepily in return, “Hello, love.”

“Good morning,” she huffed amusedly. “Is there any of your food left over? I’m hungry.”

Miles hummed softly in thought as he craned his neck to look at the tray that once held their meals, “Nope.”

“Could you knock on the wall and get our guard, then?” The blonde asked, tilting her head somewhat. She watched as the colonel straightened, pausing a moment to stretch, before knocking on the door to their private car.

“Did you sleep well?” Olivier asked, waiting for their guard.

“Relatively so,” Miles slipped an arm around her. “I don’t find trains to be that comfortable.”

“ _I_ feel great,” she smiled playfully, all tucked in and propped up by the pillows.

“I wonder why,” he chuckled.

Their car door opened, revealing a young soldier snapping a salute, “Reporting as requested, ma’am, sir.”

“If any waiters are free, get them, please,” the lieutenant general spoke, her tone just serious enough to still be intimidating to the young soldier, who hastily nodded and hurried off, not wishing to incur her wrath.

“Have you ever been to Aerugo, Olivier?” Miles asked, glancing down at her.

“I haven’t,” came her reply. “Outside of Amestris, I’ve only been to Drachma. I’ve been to the eastern and southern borders, but no further. You?”

Her husband shook his head.

“Not many people get to travel out of the country,” she shifted in her seat somewhat, getting comfortable beside him. “It’s a shame. Maybe that’ll change once relations begin to heal more.”

“I’m sure it will,” Miles offered an encouraging smile as the door opened once again.

“What can we do for you, General Armstrong?” The waiter spoke after greeting the two.

“Could you bring me another helping of that plate?” The blonde asked, eyeing the empty tray. “I’ll pay for whatever the extra cost is.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, miss,” he replied. “We have a set number of plates each passenger can have--”

“I’m very pregnant and the only thing keeping me from puking all over your train right now is food,” Olivier blinked calmly, her tone cold. “I told you, I’ll pay for it.”

That seemed to get her point across, since the waiter then quickly muttered a “yes ma’am” before hurrying off with speed that rivaled that of the soldier.

He was back within a minute, bringing a whole new plate of food with him. He began to set it where the old tray had been, though Olivier immediately stopped him, instead taking it herself and placing it upon her round stomach.

“Excuse me?” Miles asked, catching the waiter’s attention with a voice much more polite than that of the soldier beside him. “What’s Aerugo like?”

The waiter seemed instantly thankful for the distraction from the grumpy general, giving the colonel a small nervous smile, “It’s beautiful. What would you like to know?”

“The sights, the scenery, what there is to do there, anything.”

“Well,” the waiter sighed, glancing out the train window, as if searching for inspiration. “Depends on where you’re going. The capitol is pretty close to the center of the country, so around that area is where everything is. The more west you go, it gets a bit less crowded, but if you go more east, you’ll notice that it gets _very_ empty. Aerugo controls a small portion of the uninhabited Great Desert, which runs from around Ishval all the way down to the ocean. It’s really pretty there; it would be a prime spot for mass tourism if it weren’t for how remote it is.”

“I imagine the ocean is nice.”

The waiter nodded, smiling somewhat, “It really is. The sand around there is very light-colored, so it’s just _gorgeous_ next to the rolling waves. The water is so clear and blue.”

“What’s Meriggiare like?”

“It’s the center of everything, really,” the waiter chuckled. “Being a country very big on trade, there’s almost always some sort of annual festival or market being held in the wide streets. The architecture is beautiful; a lot of the newer buildings are being built in the old Angariian style, thanks to the excavations made on the old city. All of them are just so awe-inspiring.”

“Angarii was the old city that was wiped out in ancient times, right?” Olivier questioned, speech somewhat muddled by a mouthful of food.

“That’s correct, ma’am. It was around a similar time period as Xerxes.”

The lieutenant general hummed in thought before taking another bite.

“What are the people like?”

“Colorful, to say the least. Very friendly,” his smile returned. “They can be kind of loud, but in a good, lively way. Things have been a little tense recently, though, so the streets have calmed down significantly. There used to be rowdy, late, alcohol-fueled parties nearly every night.”

“Why’s that?” Olivier immediately spoke up again. Her instant thought was that it had something to do with the terrorist attacks, or perhaps the government.

“The government’s employed some new kind of soldiers that are essentially the triple-threats of law enforcement; they’re used in the police force, the army, and other important federal manual service jobs. They’ve kind of been killing all the fun from what I’ve heard, and people just don’t like them very much in general. I haven’t actually visited since Salvatore’s started using them, so I’m not sure what the big deal about them is.”

“I see,” Olivier said, her voice low, glancing at Miles. He returned her perplexed look, and she knew he understood her tone.

“We’ll arrive soon, though-- then you’ll be able to see what all of the hype is about for yourselves,” the waiter finished, bowing politely and ducking out the door.

“Wonder what that’s about,” Olivier murmured, swallowing her food.

Miles sighed, agreeing.

The two were silent for a moment, Olivier having resumed gazing out the window at the world passing by. She felt the colonel’s eyes on her, also in a silent gaze.

She drew in a breath, Miles shifting slightly beside her, ready to listen.

“I want our baby to see the ocean.”

She turned her head, seeing the warmth and fondness in his smile. It was a smile she couldn’t help but return as she absentmindedly laid a gentle hand on her stomach.

“Maybe we can take them all over. They could be the first Ishvalan-Amestrian to see every country of the world.”

Miles’ chuckle was a deep rumble, “That’s definitely a feat not many _non_ -mixed people have achieved.”

Olivier’s smile remained as she looked down at herself, imagining what life would hold for them in just a matter of months, “You’re not wrong.”

 

 

“Hey,” Roy said, knocking on the door of the train car. “You lovebirds awake? We’re here.”

The speed with which Olivier slammed the door open, glaring at the other general like a predator about to off some prey, was never to be matched again.

Said general smiled politely at her, not even needing a verbal response, “Good. You have all your stuff together?”

With a cold grunt of affirmation, Olivier navigated her way out of the car in front of him, Miles in tow behind her, yawning.

“How was the ride for you guys?” Riza asked politely from behind Roy.

“Fine,” Olivier replied, making sure she had all her things. “We talked to a waiter; apparently the government’s recently rolled out some new kind of law enforcement that people don’t particularly care for.”

Roy’s dark eyebrows raised, “That can’t be a coincidence.”

“For once, we agree on something,” the blonde spoke as she led the four through the train. “Maybe these terrorist attacks aren’t terrorism at all; if there’s exaggeration at play, then it may just be some citizens acting out. Which is _pitiful_ if it’s a few petty thugs that the government can’t seem to catch.”

“If that’s the case, maybe we’re just in for a nice vacation,” Miles added, tone playfully optimistic, leading Riza to sigh softly, wistfully.

“That would definitely be nice.”

A pair of Amestrian soldiers saluted them as they neared the train’s exit. Once their gesture was returned, they lowered their hands.

“It’s an honor to meet you all,” one said with a smile, a shorter woman with round features. Olivier thought she looked as if Drachman blood ran strong through her veins; she wondered if the recent news about the northern country and the results of its near-civil-war had pleased her. “I’m Captain Osprey, and this is First Lieutenant Corsair. We have been assigned as your personal bodyguards for your visit in Aerugo.”

She had gestured to the man to her left, who was near a foot taller than her. He almost looked Aerugan himself, with olive skin and dark hair of his own.

Olivier’s gut reaction was to bark about not needing bodyguards, but she had been the one to request them in the first place-- not only would they be in a foreign country Olivier had zero experience in, but she _now_ , of all times, did not want to put herself in danger. She thought that, perhaps, this new era of her life was the perfect time for her to be cautious.

“Thank you,” she nodded.

“If I’m not mistaken, the prince arranged for a party to receive us,” Osprey spoke, glancing out the window to her right. “I don’t see any military outside yet, though. Shall we go wait for them?”

Olivier glanced back at Roy for his confirmation. As much as she hated giving him a single say in anything, she recognized his new rank. He, however, didn’t seem used to it quite yet-- in all of their dealings prior to the Promised Day, he had been grown accustomed to letting her and any other higher officers speak and make decisions-- yet, now, it was _his_ time. She thought with a frown that Grumman sending him here alongside her was a tool to get him ready for large-scale foreign dealings, which would be mandatory upon ascension to Führer. She hated it, but she also knew it would be something to rub Roy’s face in later.

He nodded at her before she turned to face the two young soldiers, repeating the nod. Pleased with their decision, the captain and lieutenant then led the way out of the train.

 

Even the train station was beautiful.

The buildings beyond the area of arriving and departure were tall and mostly connected, save for the narrow alleys that sometimes stood between them. Buildings were a pleasant mixture of natural beiges and soft browns, while brightly colored streamers contrasted. In addition to the eye-catching decorations, the crowded streets filled with people shopping and enjoying themselves could lead one to infer that one of the country’s many festivals was occuring. Merchants lined the wider streets, calling out to those passing by in the flowing, romantic, Aerugan language.

“Wow,” Olivier breathed, honestly taken aback. She had heeded the waiter’s words, but this was more than she had expected. Swept past them by a cool breeze, Olivier immediately honed in on what smelled like a sweet, home baked good; for sure one that a merchant was selling.

“This already beats Central,” Roy said, surprising not only Olivier, but Miles and Riza as well. This comment earned him a glance from the three, though by the confused look on his face, the future Führer of Amestris didn’t seem to understand the meaning behind the looks.

Osprey and Corsair were already staring wide-eyed at the city’s expanse, and just from a brief look, Olivier could already tell they were making mental lists of what to do and what to see. As if they didn’t already have an important job to do and important people to protect, she thought and _hmphed_ to herself in irritation.

“Excuse me?” An accented voice, one now somewhat familiar to Olivier and Roy, spoke up from behind them. Upon turning to see who it was, the five Amestrians did not expect what stood before them.

A middle-aged man in the brick-red uniform of the Aerugan military stood tall, his hands politely clasped behind his back, with a calm and wise-looking smile on his face. His voice _said_ middle-aged, rather, but the color and style of his hair and mustache made him look much older.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you,” he continued in a professional yet friendly manner, however the Amestrians were too stunned by those that stood beside him to immediately reply.

Flanking him on either side, stood what looked like two seven-foot humanoid stone carvings. Each was a dark slate color, rough and jagged in some places, yet shiny and polished in others. Their bodies were uneven and cracked in multiple areas, with unbuffed stone spikes jutting out seemingly naturally from different areas of their torsos. The only things bilateral on them were what seemed to be their faces, besides the fact that they each had two arms and two legs-- yet even these were not fully symmetrical. Within their heads, two white lights glowed.

What staggered everyone was the fact that these _things_ swayed idly, alive.

The Aerugan man extended a hand to Olivier, instantly knowing who she was thanks to the rank upon her shoulder and the sash across her chest.

“I take it you’re Lieutenant General Armstrong, correct? I am Prince Salvatore’s advisor, Leonardo Benelli. I trust you are doing well?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is literally just world building and fluff lol


	4. Sprezzatura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this one out quickly so, while I did re-read and edit a little, I'm sure I missed some stuff. So I apologize.

She nodded, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake, “That would be me, and I am well, thank you. It’s a pleasure, Sir Benelli.”

The Aerugan smiled once again, straightening once their handshake had ceased, his line of sight drawn across the other Amestrians behind the lieutenant general as he continued to greet each of them. 

Olivier, however, failed to hear her comrade’s introductions as she stared up at the stone beasts before her. One seemed to notice her eyes on it, since she explicitly noticed its head tilt down slightly to return her gaze-- or, rather, where its head would normally be given that they seemed to be human-like in their anatomy. The stone at its height was carved out slightly in the shape of an ancient helmet, the holes that would have been for the eyes seemingly hollowed out somewhat, with the two bright lights within. 

Instantly, a memory crossed her mind; of a young boy, accompanied by a large suit of armor, the lights in his eyes near the same as what lay ahead of her. She remained stumped, however-- for these were not armor, nor were they made of any sort of metal. 

She realized Benelli had turned back to her, the blonde quickly focusing on him rather than what seemed to be his guards. 

“Shall we head to the hotel we have set up for you and your comrades, Lieutenant General Armstrong? I can fill you in on our situation on the way, so you all are present to hear it,” He smiled once again, his hand now gesturing to the street ahead of them rather than to her.

She nodded, “We shall. Lead the way.”

As he did so, Olivier steeled herself, raising and reinforcing the wall. She was wary; even though the country seemed lively and welcoming enough from what they’d seen thus far, it was still a new place and a whole new experience to the lot of them-- and with the new, always comes the possibility of danger, no matter how slim.  

“So, I see you are with child,” Benelli spoke, voice friendly as Olivier walked beside him. Miles stood behind her, to her right, having naturally fallen into his place, with Roy and Riza next in line. They listened to the conversation in silence, admiring the city around them, the unspoken agreement between Roy and Olivier being that, while he  _ was _ a higher rank than her now, it was her actual position that gave her the reigns of the situation for the time being. He would play his part, but Olivier would not toss him into the metaphorical creek without something of a paddle right off the bat. Behind them, Osprey and Corsair trailed along, totally oblivious to said conversation, in favor of marvelling at the sights and deeply breathing in the smells of spices and freshly-baked goods.

The two stone beings walked behind them, their slow and heavy steps still somewhat audible even beneath the loud bustle of the locals around them. 

“Oh, yes,” Olivier replied, glancing at him briefly.

“How lovely, children are always a blessing. My three are all grown up now, I’m afraid, but I’ll never forget the joy they brought me while living under my roof, eh?” He chuckled softly, leading them down the busy street. People gave them a wide berth, not upon seeing soldiers, but upon the sight of the stone ones, Olivier noticed. They did not seem too terribly bothered by them, however, given that she spotted several more during their tour. These, instead of escorting, were patrolling the streets; judging by the way they looked around, they seemed to be working, rather than having a simple afternoon stroll. She even heard one speak to an Aerugan merchant, though it was in the country’s native language, so she did not catch what the exact words were-- yet, she did hear the deep rumble and echo of the voice emitted from it. 

“Sounds like a handful,” the Amestrian woman replied, purposefully adding somewhat of an amused tone to her voice to hide her wariness. 

“I’m assuming this is your first, then? How far along are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She felt his eyes glance down at her stomach, which she honestly did not find odd in the slightest; even in her homeland, she had grown used to the looks of awe, shock, or confusion. She had bore witness to the many shades of humanity throughout her pregnancy thus far-- like ecstatic delight from the female side of her family and Alex, with a hint of disapproval but quick acceptance from her father, once she eventually told them. Women her age and younger approached her on the streets, congratulating her and making friendly conversation with zero acknowledgement for her rank.

She didn’t hate it, surprisingly. Sure, some of them grew annoying, but the majority reminded her of the close female friends she never had growing up-- unlike many of the men who knew who she was, both civilian and military, who saw it as a shock that the  _ impregnable Wall of Briggs _ , was, just,  _ not _ after all. To some, her reputation as cold and stoic had regrettably diminished with the growth of her child, yet to others, the reputation of perseverance and guardianship that shone with the events of the Promised Day was what prevailed. 

“Yes, it is. About four months, actually,” was her reply, though she felt Miles bristle protectively as he walked a bit closer to her. 

She smiled to herself, not from the friendliness of the Aerugan, but in amusement, from the hostility of the child’s father. 

“I’m rather impressed and grateful that you’ve found time to make the trip here to assist us, then, Lieutenant General,” Benelli dipped his head in an appreciative faux-bow, earning a nod of acknowledgement from her. 

He looked up, sighing, “God knows we need it.”

Stopping her in her tracks, Olivier saw the reason behind his sigh. The group had rounded a street corner, coming face-to-face with total destruction. 

An entire building-- a large one, judging by the sheer amount of debris-- and half of the street ahead of them had been entirely demolished. Though there was no dust in the air that would hint at the incident being a recent one, there were still large pieces of brick and stone in the remainder of the road, and even larger sections of wall and building foundations off to the side. The buildings adjacent had been damaged as well, but the ruin sustained seemed to be only aesthetic, having taken chunks out of the walls that were now covered with tarp in preparation for repairs. 

Amongst the rubble, the stone creatures worked, transporting brick to and from two trucks while others used large brooms to sweep at the dirt and dust that sat in the good portion of the street. Police tape had been set up around the diameter of the area affected, where military police and one made of stone stood guard. Several lingered next to multiple men both in uniform and not, the men talking amongst themselves as one wrote in a notepad. Farther off, an Aerugan in civilian clothing was setting up a tripod for a large camera to takes photos of what was undoubtedly a crime scene. 

“What happened?” Roy breathed. 

“Those terrorists I had mentioned to the two of you,” Benelli began, looking at the scene before him alongside the Amestrians, his tone grim. “Struck again just this morning. They’ve been holding up a steady attack every week at this point, but they’re always so sneaky and well-equipped; we never see them. We exhausted all of our manpower over the past few years in, erm… You know. So we don’t have many men specialized for this sort of thing.”

Olivier noticed how he skipped over the mention of the Aerugan-Amestrian border wars, and she was aware that her comrades recognized it, too. She knew it would eventually be addressed, but she  _ did _ take into account how he was not combative when mentioning it, which was an attitude that definitely led to a good start for future peace negotiations.

“I see,” Olivier pursed her lips. “Well, we’re not exactly detectives ourselves, Sir Benelli.”

“I’m aware, Lieutenant General, and we don’t mind it. We honestly need all the help we can get at this point, and considering you’re one of our only neighbors with any experience besides the  trading of goods…”

“I understand,” Olivier gave a short nod. 

“General Mustang?” She kept her steadied tone and the formality that was normally lost between them as she glanced back at the dark-haired man, who immediately turned his attention to her. “What’s that look like to you?”

“Not alchemy,” Roy stated, heading over to the nearest damaged wall, Riza dutifully behind him. “I see no evidence of transmutations. Captain?”

Riza knelt, gently touching some of the debris on the street below her, lifting her hand to examine it closely, “Feels a bit like gunpowder, sir.”

“Could that be from your men?” Roy turned, directing the question back to Benelli, who shook his head. 

Corsair, peering on from behind the group, spoke softly to himself, yet audibly, “There’s too much of it to be from a gunshot, or even multiple ones. That amount looks like it would be used as blasting powder.”

“We keep a close record of the use of explosives, especially here in the inner city where there’s no mining or road work being done. There’s no reason for it, much less such a large amount of it, to be here,” Benelli said, his voice almost defeated.

“Where have the other attacks taken place?” Miles spoke up, taking a step forward, now next to Olivier. She felt his knuckles brush against hers, to which she gave an affectionate reply in the form of a subtle tap on the hand. 

“Mostly in our government quarter,” Benelli glanced over as the camera flashed, taking a photo of a fragmented wall. “We’ve mainly had severe injuries with few deaths, considering how often the attacks are, but the real, pressing issue lies in the property damage and just the sheer possibility of  _ mass _ casualties. Thankfully, not many men are ever occupying the buildings when they go up in flames, but the damage to our federal property is racking up quickly, and we don’t have the money to fix it.”

“You said buildings go up in flames?” Roy asked, of course being the one to pipe up when fire is involved. “How have these other buildings been attacked?”

“Two have been set on fire, with oil strategically leaked to strengthen the power and speed of the blaze. Three have been rigged with explosives, which, by the looks of things here, seem to have raised that number to a fourth… And then three have also been gassed.”

“With what?” Olivier’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“Phosgene, I believe,” Benelli replied. “Horrific stuff, I assure you.”

“I’m familiar,” Olivier frowned to herself, her voice low, as Miles gently took her hand. Glancing up at him, she saw concern written on his face, prompting her to squeeze his hand in reassurance.

“And these happen every week?” Roy continued, watching as Riza continued surveying the dust to see if any more evidence could be found. 

“Save for the first two, yes, every week now.”

“I’m sure I don’t need to be the one to tell you that these attacks seem extremely coordinated,” Olivier sighed, setting a hand on her stomach as if it would in any way ease the growing pain in her back. “What more can you tell us?”

“I’ll save the rest for you later, I’m sure you’re all very tired from your trip, no?” Benelli said, turning back to the road ahead of them. “Your hotel is not far.”

He started walking once again, hands clasped behind his back, “There’s another issue we’ve been having to deal with, but it’s not near as frequent or predictable as the attacks. We will take care of it if you lot are able to take care of the terrorism threat.”

Nodding, saving all further questions for later, they continued on their path-- though it was not long before Roy interrupted the silence.

“So, Sir Benelli. May I ask who your friends here are?” He questioned, glancing up at the stone beasts, who calmly and briefly looked down at him. 

“I feel as if we’ve met people like them before,” Riza added, recalling the likes of Alphonse before the Promised Day and Barry. 

“Oh, these lot?” Benelli smiled, waving a hand back towards them. “We happened upon them during one of our excavations of Angarii. I’m sure you’ve heard?”

Olivier nodded, “We did have someone mention to us that the government was excavating the place. What for?”

“There’s a lot of historical significance buried beneath the sands, and even lower, the slate and ash. We are trying to uncover it and learn more about the place. When the volcano erupted hundreds of years ago and the city was buried, we suspect that the survivors erected stone carvings to serve as guardians of the dead. When we uncovered them from the sediment, they awoke, ready to serve whoever found them,” the Aerugan smiled. “They’re quite amazing, really. We have no idea how they work, but they’re entirely human in nature. ”

The lieutenant general glanced up at the slate soldier, who for the first time, did not return her look, “They can understand?”

Benelli nodded, “Understand and  _ reply _ . They’re incredible marvels of ancient human ingenuity, really.”

Nodding, only partially satisfied with his answer, Olivier continued on behind him. It didn’t make sense to her why and how these beings were awakened just through excavation, or  _ what _ they were exactly, if not souls bonded like Alphonse.

One of the trucks filled with debris drove past them, turning down another street, yet the group continued on until they reached a very tall, luxurious-looking building.

“Here we are!” Benelli chimed, waving the two slate soldiers away, the two of whom fully obeyed, wandering off. “You all just go inside and inform the woman at the desk who you are, and she will give you the keys to your rooms and have someone show you to them, if you wish. I shall go inform the prince of your arrival, I’m sure he will be most delighted to finally have a means to an end of this whole mess.”

He stuck out his hand once again, which Olivier shook, followed shortly by Roy. The Aerugan then spoke one final time, “I’ll make sure no one bothers you for the rest of the day. Once you’re settled, feel free to do as you wish; relax, see the sights our beautiful city has to offer. I shall call upon you all in the morning so we may begin our counter-terrorism plans, yes?”

Olivier nodded, “Thank you.”

At that, with a smile, the Aerugan advisor exited, leaving the Amestrians to step inside the building by themselves.  

The hotel was obviously a government facility, used for providing shelter, food, and comfort for any visiting representatives not native to the area. Pictures in intricate, gold-laden frames hung neatly on the walls, including portraits of past princes and military leaders, historical events documented through black and white photography, and old commissioned artwork of many of the country’s wonders. One that caught Olivier’s eye in particular was a large-scale oil painting of what she recognized as Mount Sofferenza, the volcano that had erupted and buried the old city in ash. The painting itself was gorgeous, as were the old photographs she had seen several times when first learning about it. It appeared multiple times in an attempt to translate the radio message, so she had grown familiar with the sleeping volcano and the meaning of its name. 

She wondered if they would see it and its beauty during their travels.

Miles stepped up behind her as she admired the work on the walls, “Roy’s gotten our room keys.”

“Good, he’s making himself useful, then.”

She heard the smile in his voice; the jingle of the multiple keys in his hand, “How are we going to tell them that we don’t need two rooms between us?”

This made her glance up at him, “How many rooms did they book?”

“Five, two for you and I, two for Roy and Riza, and one for Osprey and Corsair. They gave those kids the short end of the stick, I guess.”

Olivier turned her attention back to the painting, trying her best to read its description in the little Aerugan she knew off the top of her head, raising her voice somewhat, “Osprey, Corsair.”

The two young soldiers were by her side in a second, eager to please, as they snapped a salute, simultaneously speaking, “Yes, ma’am!”

She held her hand out to Miles, who without question, gave her one of the keys. She then held it out to the captain, “We only need one room. With this, you can each have a separate one.”

Osprey blinked in surprise as she took the keys from the other woman, “Are you sure, ma’am? Why are you sharing a room?”

The lieutenant general set a hand on her stomach, her expression flat as Miles held back a laugh. 

“Oh,” Osprey mumbled, glancing at the floor, her pale face flushing in embarrassment. “Well...Thank you very much, ma’am! I will not squander this gift you’ve given me!” 

Olivier waved away her salute halfheartedly, “Why don’t you two go up to your rooms and then go out on the town? You looked like you wanted to run off.”

Corsair swung his head to Osprey, who returned his look with one equally as excited.

“Just some rules,” Olivier started again, her voice stern. “Don’t do anything stupid, don’t be out late. It sounds like we’re heading out bright and early tomorrow, so you can’t be tired, or hungover, or whatever. Keep your guns on you, but just be wise and wary. Always stick together; you’re in a whole new country that none of us have been to, anything could happen.”

Both soldiers nodded their heads so vigorously, they looked as if they were about to fall off their necks. 

“Good, then run along.”

They saluted her again, grins wide on their faces as she gave a half-salute in return, dismissing tem. As the two sped towards the elevator, Roy stepped up to them, Riza loyally behind him. 

“You two got any plans?” Roy asked with a smile, immediately irking Olivier. 

“What’s it to you?”

“Just asking,” the alchemist chuckled at her hostility, a hand raised defensively. “We saw you give the captain a key. How pleasant of you.”

“Fuck off,” Olivier huffed, fully aware that Roy would have done the same if they had an extra body guard with them who also needed a room. 

“We’re probably going to go get settled in, but we’re thinking about exploring a bit later, too,” Roy continued, glancing at Riza for confirmation, and getting a nod in return. “This city’s really pretty, and I know we could all use some loosening-up, eh?”

Olivier rolled her eyes, ignoring him, leaving Miles to respond in her stead, “That does sound rather nice. We’ll think about it.”

Pleased with the answer, Roy smiled and nodded, turning and heading towards the elevator, “We’ll see you guys tomorrow either way. Rest well.”

Miles returned his attention to Olivier, who was crossing her arms over her chest, staring up at the painting again, “Ready to head up?”

Honestly more tired than she would ever have liked to admit, the lieutenant general gave the colonel a nod. 

 

Olivier was used to luxury, though her husband was not, and it showed in the way he marvelled and gaped at the room they were given. 

“What is this?” he breathed, entranced by a sculpture a the table after spending a good ten minutes admiring the shine and grandeur of the walls, floors, and countertops. 

“Looks like alabaster,” Olivier said casually, sitting on their beautiful canopy bed, kicking her boots off. “I like the paintings.”

“They’re astounding,” Miles smiled, looking up at them. “This whole place is. Even the bathtub is nicer than my entire first apartment.” 

The blonde smiled amusedly to herself, watching him. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked suddenly, making his way to her. 

“Tired, my back hurts,” her hand returned to her stomach. “But pretty okay. Not sure what to think of all of this, really…”

The quarter-Ishvalan nodded in agreement, taking a brief moment to appreciate the pillars and curtains that draped over their bed before sitting down beside her, “I’m sure we’ll learn more about everything tomorrow, I wouldn’t worry.”

Though not wholly convinced, Olivier nodded in reply.

“So, what do you feel like doing? Want to go out on the town, or stay in here and relax?”

“I think relaxing would be nice,” Olivier said, glancing around the room again, making sure she didn’t miss anything. “This hotel is so beautiful, I’d hate to not utilize and appreciate it.”

“True,” Miles agreed. “We could order food, if you want.”

Olivier hummed, pleased, nodding. 

“We could go ahead and nap, too.”

“I’m not tired like  _ that _ , yet,” Olivier said. “Just physically tired.”

“I understand.”

They were silent for a moment, before the Amestrian spoke up again, “We could have a bath. That tub is huge.”

The idea almost immediately caused Miles to smile, “I can’t remember the last time I had time to  _ actually sit and enjoy _ a bath. The showers in Ishval are all temporary, rickety ones.”

Rather than simply smiling in reply, Olivier smirked, “Wanna maybe fool around?”

Her tone caused Miles to laugh, “Olivier, you sound like a teenager when you say it like that.”

“What? It’s safe, as long as we’re careful.”

He smiled, amused, “You’re sure?”

“Mhm,” Olivier’s smile remained, “I already looked it up and everything.”

 

Causing Miles to laugh, happily, again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will get more interesting soon, I promise ;;


	5. Il Biscione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been having a lot of trouble with writing lately and if i want to continue this fic (or any of my others) or not. i wanted to at least try writing this next chapter even though, im my mind, it really sucks... i didnt really edit this one at all either so im sorry. i may go back and edit it at a later date

She was having the best sleep of her entire life. She  _ was _ , rather, until a loud knock was heard at their door, the sound reverberating throughout their extravagant room. 

If the knocking hadn’t already awoken Miles, the deep sigh Olivier drew and the resulting groan of annoyance into his chest was what did. He tightened the embrace he had around her as she rest upon him, splayed out like a cat, “Is someone at the door…?”

“There won’t be for long once I kill them,” Olivier mumbled, her voice half-muffled as she kept her face buried in his clavicle. Suddenly, her frustration granting her power, she propped herself up with her arms locked, not even bothering to open her eyes as she directed her anger in the vague direction of the door, “We’re  **_sleeping_ ** !”

“Sure sounds like it,” Roy’s smug voice returned from beyond the door; Miles physically able to feel Olivier tense as soon as he spoke. “A servant of the prince came and woke us, it’s time to get up. Apparently they have something to show us that’s very time-sensitive.”

“Time sensitive, my ass,” Olivier mumbled to herself, finally opening her eyes and moving to sit straight up in bed. 

Miles sighed, stretching somewhat as he raised his voice, “We’ll meet you downstairs, I suppose.”

“Roger that,” Roy spoke one final time before both his and Riza’s footsteps grew quieter as they made their way down the hall. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Was the first thing Miles asked as he sat up, opening his eyes and blinking away sleep. 

Twisting, several vertebrae in Olivier’s back cracked into place, “I’m okay. I haven’t had morning sickness in a while.”

“Good,” The quarter-Ishvalan sighed, “Ready to get up?”

“No.”

This earned a chuckle from the colonel, who smiled to himself. “Me neither.”

“But I guess we have to, if it’s such a pressing matter,” Olivier continued, carefully getting up, her voice laced with sarcasm. “We’ve got to go see what all the _ fuss _ is about.”

“I doubt they would wake us up early for anything less than something of importance,” Miles spoke up, hopeful. 

Olivier grumbled her reply, “I don’t know if I’d put it past them.”

 

What the Amestrians had not expected was a festival. 

Benelli had been waiting for their group downstairs, and upon their exit from the hotel, they were instantly met with the sights, sounds, and smells of a celebration. 

In addition to the streamers and decorations that were hanging in the streets the day prior, now, several blue Amestrian flags waved in the air, right alongside and of equal height to the red of the Aerugan ones. A parade with massive floats and bands marching drew hordes of civilians to the street’s edge, all cheering. Some people happily waved small, pocket-sized Aerugan flags while children played with toys that made interesting, whimsical sounds or movements. 

Olivier, preoccupied with both her shock and the very-full mug of coffee in her hand, was silent, allowing for Roy to take lead-- “What’s all of this?”

“Our summer festival officially begins today, all of the festivities up until now had just been meant to get the people excited,” Benelli chimed. “We took this time to erect some of your country’s flags around as well, to signify the hopeful renewal of peace, with your new government and all. I do hope your officials at home will take this as but a small token of what will be our friendship.”

“Wow,” Miles breathed beside Olivier, catching her attention. “I haven’t seen a celebration this lively since Ishval, _ before  _ the war.”

Before Olivier had a moment to grant Miles a short leave in the spirit of enjoying the celebratory atmosphere he seemed to dearly miss, Benelli piped up again, “Our meeting with the prince has been rescheduled to later tonight, so I encourage you all to enjoy yourselves for the time being. I’ll be around, so don’t hesitate to find me if you need anything, yes?”

“Sir Benelli,” Olivier spoke, an idea entering her mind. “How long would it take to go to and from  Mount Sofferenza? I would like to visit it.”

Almost instantly, Benelli’s smile faded, his expression blank. Having known most of the Amestrians around her for an extended amount of time, Olivier had long since learned to read the air and the atmosphere around them-- and she could sense their sudden tension at the mood change. 

“Sofferenza is… A little dangerous to visit, at the moment. We’ve had to stop tourism, and now only excavation teams are permitted to enter. I apologize.”

“We aren’t civilians,” Olivier replied. “What makes it dangerous? If only the excavation teams are present, then it would be the perfect time for me to see some of the historical things you’re unearthing, no?”

Miles nudged her hand, silently urging her to give it up. Perhaps he thought she would make Benelli suspicious; but she knew what she was doing. 

“Well,” Benelli sighed. “In that case, I have something to show you. It will help me explain.”

“Lead the way, then,” the lieutenant general nodded, her comrades hesitantly following behind her. 

“Hey,” Roy caught up to her, speaking close to her ear. “Don’t you think playing twenty questions about a subject that Benelli is obviously reluctant to talk about is one of the dumber ideas you’ve had in a while, Olivier? We don’t want to get shot out here for sticking our noses where we shouldn’t. We only have a finite number of men here to help us if things go sour.”

“I know where my limits are,” Olivier snapped, her voice lowered. “Don’t take me for a fool. I know you think you’ve got everything under control, but I’ve been at this game longer than you have, Roy. If it starts to get to that point, I’ll give it up.”

She turned away from him, breathing, to herself, “I just feel like there’s more at play here. I wouldn’t have gotten near as far as I am now if I didn’t learn to question everything early on in my enlistment. Besides, I genuinely would like to visit the mountain, if there really is nothing to worry about.”

Frowning, only somewhat satisfied with the answer he got, Roy backed off, falling back into step beside his own adjutant. 

“There’s less people here,” Miles said aloud, earning a nod from the Aerugan ahead of them. 

“I’m afraid,” They turned a corner, “that this is why.”

The destruction ahead of them was obviously not from a detonated building, that was for sure. Instead of the carnage being off to the side, out of the street, and centralized to a given point, the enormous rut that ran perpendicular to the road had seemingly driven itself through buildings, its path stopped by nothing. 

“Shit, your city’s really getting torn to shreds, isn’t it?” Olivier blinked, her mind instantly racing with thought. “The only other thing I’ve ever seen even remotely similar to this was the tunnel that Sloth made under our fort.”

“The Biscione,” came Benelli’s reply, the word rolling off his tongue, filled with the romantic accent of the land’s people. “It’s the issue I told you that we would be covering while you lot investigate the terrorist threats. The terrorists are more predictable, and therefore, in my humble opinion, more easily dealt with.”

“Biscione,” Miles repeated, lifting a hand to rub at one of his sideburns as he pondered the word. “Why have I heard that before?”

“It’s a mythical monster, an enormous snake always seen with a human body hanging from its maw. At least, that’s what the civilians are calling it,” Benelli sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The townspeople have fled this quarter of the city. It’s shown up twice, but it seems to make its home at Angarii, so a certain radius of the mountain, we have deemed unsafe for anyone not in the government. It’s even gone as far as to halt some of our excavations when it comes out to feed.”

“A giant snake?” Roy’s brows furrows, “And it made that?”

“I’ve only seen it from afar, so I wasn’t able to judge the size,” Benelli replied. “But it was definitely a snake. No limbs, triangular head, with horns, of all things. It doesn’t look unlike some of the desert vipers we see around here, but if the people’s size estimate is correct, and this was  _ really _ made by it, it’s the biggest snake in… Well, the history of life.”

“The only reasonable explanation I can think of would be animal-based chimeras,” Olivier said, eyeing the rut. “But you can always see clear evidence of what animals they’re mixed with, right?”

She glanced back at Roy and Riza, who had seen such creatures; and received a nod from the both of them, “That, plus the size wouldn’t make much sense. Certain animals, with the way their anatomy functions, can’t be viable. Nearly every living thing on the planet has a certain size it can reach, and if it goes beyond that, that means there’s problems in its body in one way or another.”

“A while back, they tried breeding larger livestock in East, which would in theory result in more meat and other animal-based products,” Riza spoke up. “But every animal produced that had the desired size or muscle mass always had hereditary problems, which resulted in different kinds of organ failure. They stopped the practice because of how cruel it was.”

“So how can a snake get this large?” Olivier asked to no one in particular. “What’s it feed on?”

“You said the Biscione legend told of a snake, always seen eating a man?” Miles asked. “Does it eat people?”

“The only times I’ve heard, it likes to target our slate soldiers in particular. They seem to pose the most threat to it, so it will often grab one in its jaws and flee back to Angarii with it, where they’re never seen again. Some people have died, but it’s only been indirectly by the buildings it knocks over, or things like that. It’s picked some of our soldiers up and it’s bitten them, but its venom is similar to that of the desert vipers, which we have antivenom for,” Benelli turned back to Olivier. He spoke up again, voice only somewhat sarcastic, “So, do you still wish to visit Mount Sofferenza, with that beast lurking about in Angarii?”

His eyes widened in surprise, though the Amestrians weren’t as shocked by the lieutenant general’s reply, “Now more than ever, Sir Benelli. I have some experience with _ ‘monsters’ _ , and if this Biscione is as powerful as you all say, then I’d definitely like to lay eyes on it once and for all.” 

  
  


The desert was not unlike the scenery of Ishval, so half of the party was faring fine. The other half, however, had mixed reactions. 

Osprey and Corsair had been reluctant to leave the festivities, but their complaining became unavoidable and audible once reaching the outer desert area. The typical  _ it’s too hot _ s or  _ does anyone have water _ s or  _ are we there yet _ s ensued, annoying Olivier and Roy, but especially the prior-- who was also not used to the heat, but was keeping quiet about her discomfort. 

Finally, however, a mountain rose up before them, blue and almost transparent-looking on the horizon. 

“Angarii isn’t far now,” Benelli spoke to them, turning his head to the horses and their riders behind him. 

“It’s beautiful,” Olivier said to Miles, eyeing the sleeping volcano in the distance. “I bet it’s even more so up close.”

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous to get too close?” Osprey asked, Olivier too hot to care about her eavesdropping. 

“The volcano’s been asleep for hundreds of years, and the Aerugan government has equipment used to sense seismic activity,” Corsair replied matter-off-factly to her. “Volcanoes never erupt without some sort of warning, they’d be able to sense it and evacuate before anything too bad happened.”

“Oh, good,” Osprey heaved a sigh of relief, Olivier rolling her eyes ahead of them. 

Miles’ soft chuckle beside her drew her attention, “Better now than ever to get used to kids and their foolish questions,  _ hm? _ ”

“I’m allergic to stupidity, not the innocent lack of knowledge that children have,” the lieutenant general huffed, while the smile on her husband’s face remained. 

Soon, outcroppings of rock and what looked like the remnants of stone walls began to dot the landscape. They passed a few small teams of slate soldiers, accompanied by a few human supervisors, digging in the dirt around the still-standing walls. Over time, the walls and what were obviously the remains of a society grew increasingly common, until they arrived on the ruins of the old city. 

The slate soldiers were much more common now, some even camouflaged within the dark stone of certain areas. They had made tunnels in the sand, removed certain walls and loaded them up into trucks, and some were even dusting off and chiseling rock out of and away from artifacts. 

“Interesting,” Olivier hummed, glancing at Benelli. “Can we get a tour?”

“I don’t know much about the place myself, but one of our slate soldiers does,” the advisor replied, looking around. “Ah, there. The big one.”

Off a way, there stood a small group of slate soldiers, one larger one seemingly speaking to and commanding the others. 

“Damocles!” Benelli called out. “Come here, please.”

The head of the soldier, which resembled an ancient helmet, stiffly turned, restricted only by the fact that its body was made of stone. Upon confirmation of who was summoning it, it spoke to the others one final time before heading over. 

It walked with a limp, and once it drew closer to them, Olivier could clearly see why-- it was entirely missing one leg, while the other leg was frozen with its knee bent, everything below what would be the calf broken off. It looked to have three arms; one normal on its right side, while its left had two arms, with one on top of the other. The uppermost arm ended in what most resembles a fist grasping a long rod, yet there was no actual hand present, but a clump of stone instead. The final arm, the longest of the three, grasped a pickaxe. 

It lumbered closer, using its right hand and the rod to walk, and Olivier heard Osprey swallow nervously behind them. 

“Damocles, my dear,” Benelli began again, nodding in a greeting to the slate soldier. “Would you be so kind as to give our Amestrian guests a tour of the old city? Just try to avoid areas with confirmed Biscione activity, please.”

“As you wish,” a surprisingly female voice echoed from within the soldier, the accent similar to the Aerugan’s, but different, in a way.

“I will wait on the city’s outskirts for you all,” the Aerugan man spoke, turning his horse around, his own soldiers turning dutifully as well. “Please, do be safe.”

Keeping her eye trained on him as he rode away, Olivier heard Roy speak-- “So, it’s Damocles, huh?”

The slate soldier did not reply. 

“Not very conversational, I suppose?”

The sound of shifting and grinding rocks emanated from the soldier as she moved to start walking down the road, ignoring Roy’s words, “Dismount your horses, please. The uneven stones of the road is bad for their hooves.”

The general frowned somewhat, causing Olivier to snort amusedly as Miles helped her off her horse, “Damn, I like her already.”

 

“This is where we have been uncovering most of the bodies,” Damocles began, the Amestrian soldiers trailing behind her. She had mostly taken them down the main roads, with few detours. 

“We must touch them as little as possible to preserve their likeness. Down that other way,” she lifted her free arm to slowly gesture to another branching-off street. “Is what was the red light district. Erotic wall art is still present, and rather well preserved.”

“Ooh, I wanna look,” Osprey piped up, Corsair nodding and trying not to laugh beside her. 

Olivier groaned, “Go, then. But don’t blame us if you get lost or eaten by a giant snake.”

With the two young soldiers running off, their tour continued. 

Before long, as they made their way down a particularly empty road, Olivier decided to break the silence, “Damocles, is there really a Biscione here?”

“Biscione,” the slate soldier echoed. “Yes.”

“Is it really a giant snake, or is everyone exaggerating?”

“They speak the truth,” the soldier boomed lowly. “I have seen it myself.”

Olivier and Miles exchanged a glance. 

Nearly on cue, Corsair and Osprey came sprinting up behind them, “Generals!”

“What is it?” Olivier asked impatiently. “Did you see some art that scared you?”

“N-no, General, the snake,” Osprey began, gripping her rifle tightly in shaking hands. 

“We saw it!” Corsair finished. 

“ _ A _ snake, or  _ the  _ snake?” Roy’s brows furrowed. 

“There are quite a few buried in the sand around here that we’ve seen,” Riza murmured.

“If the Biscione has revealed itself to us,” Damocles interrupted. “It is my duty to repel it. I must bid you farewell--”   
“We’re coming,” Olivier snapped. “I won’t believe this tale about a big snake until I see it with my own eyes.”

The slate soldier stared at the Amestrian woman for a few moments, the white lights in her stone helmet shining, deep in thought.

“As you wish.”

  
  


The rest of the slate soldiers were huddled into a crowd when they arrived. As soon as one spotted Damocles, it straightened, the others quickly following suit. 

“Report,” she commanded, peering down at her smaller comrade. 

“The Biscione is in this tunnel,” a male voice came from the other. “It did not see us, it does not seem to be hunting.”

“Smoke it out,” Damocles spoke. “This tunnel only has one exit, it will be forced up here where we will ambush it.”

“So, they’re actively trying to take it down,” Riza whispered to herself, though loud enough for all of the Amestrians to hear.

“If these excavations of there’s are so important, it makes sense to neutralize it,” Roy nodded. “Especially since these soldiers seem to be irreplaceable. If a dangerous monster was halting significant government work and killing off men that were difficult to replace, I’d send a team after it, too.”

“They risk destroying some of the artifacts here if they engage in combat, though,” it was Miles’ turn to speak up. “You saw how the Biscione tore through those buildings in the city, it would be able to do much more damage with these frail, ancient walls if it wanted. If I were them, I would lure it out into the desert somewhere where there’s no risk of damages.”

“That’s why I have a hard time believing everything they’re telling us,” Olivier frowned, watching the slate soldiers as they were given orders. “It’s the whole reason I wanted to come out here in the first place.”

A low rumble beneath their feet stopped their conversation, leaving the group silent in anticipation. A slate soldier wandered off from the group, retrieving a satchel and returning it to Damocles. As others hurried to arm themselves, Damocles took a handful of small smoke grenades and tossed them into the tunnel. 

A few moments passed before smoke began to waft out from the tunnel, a burning smell starting to bleed into the air around them.

The slate soldiers laid in wait at the tunnel’s entrance, weapons drawn and at the ready. Seconds later, the rumbling below them all increased. 

The Amestrians braced themselves for the snake to burst forth and for the slate soldiers to leap into battle, but instead, an explosion from behind them caused them all to spin around on their heels. 

Sand and stone was kicked into the air, a cloud of dust concealing an enormous, solid shape that drove its way up from the sand. Immediately, the Amestrians jumped into action, rifles and pistols being drawn, gloves being pulled on, and Miles instinctively pulling Olivier closer to him; his gut reaction to not only defend one life, but two. 

“Is that proof enough for you, Liv?!”

Olivier ignored the other general in favor of staring down the beast that stood before her. As the slate soldiers behind them hurried to their defense, the only sounds she heard were the clanking of metal against stone and the deep, hissing breaths of the at least sixty-foot long viper that stood down at her and her comrades. 

“Now’s a  **_great_ ** time to be sarcastic, Roy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the biscione legend is a real thing, if you want to google it. i still dont know if ill continue this tbh but i guess we'll see


	6. Vivat Rex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, sorry for the wait. i'm slowly trying to get back into writing this again, but hopefully we'll soon be getting to the more-interesting plot points. thank you again as usual for reading, and please don't hesitate to leave a kudos or comment <3

The serpent’s body swelled with each breath it drew in, exhaling them each in a deep and angry hiss. Upon seeing it with her own eyes, Olivier was able to confirm that nothing about it seemed odd, save for its size. Horned vipers lived in the desert, and they had seen several just in the past day alone, but none were even a small fraction of the size of the one ahead of them. 

Guns were instantly drawn, Osprey and Corsair fumbling with their rifles as the human Aerugans around them readied their own weapons alongside the slate soldiers. Riza, instead of getting her pistols, had quickly opened the briefcase she had been carrying with her for such an emergency, her officer on standby. Swiftly, his gloves were on and ready. 

“What the hell,” Olivier breathed to herself as Miles held her close. “It’s  _ enormous _ .”

Some workers fled, while others charged the beast, yet the slate soldiers stood and waited for a command. Instead of their leader, however, it was Roy who called out--

“Move aside! I can’t hit it when you all are so damn close!”

The snake reared its head, standing tall, before plunging forward into the ranks of encroaching excavation workers. Its triangle-shaped head swung from side to side in short bursts as it moved, sending some men flying, while one was impaled on one of its horns. 

Once it cleared a path through them and it had made it onto the opposite side of the street, the men, in a blind panic, charged again, with the exception of the one bloodied and motionless in the sand. 

Roy pressed two fingers together, but made no movement as the men were upon the beast again, “I said _ move _ !”

“Damocles!” Olivier called, protectly restrained by the quarter-Ishvalan, “Tell the men to move away!”

Understanding, the slate soldier turned her head, her echoed voice booming, “ _ Vai via _ !”

Recognizing the words, now in Aerugan, the human men paused and hesitated before backing off from the snake. In an ominous show of intelligence, the snake paused as well, waiting for its opponents to make a move as its fanged head swayed back and forth. 

The general snapped his fingers and a flame burst forth from his gloves, yet the serpent showed extreme speed, ducking beneath the blaze and charging forward towards the slate soldiers. One raised the pickaxe it was holding, managing to stab the point between two scales on the snake’s nose, before the serpent opened its maw and bit down on the stone body. 

In an all-too-human way, the soldier screamed. 

Rearing back again, the snake slammed its jaw shut, not even bothering to use its fangs, as the body was crushed into chunks of falling stone, the lights in the rock-helmet seemingly snuffed out like a candle. 

This gave the slate soldier’s comrades a moment to attack; one opting to slam its body against the serpent’s, causing its balance to visibly waver. Another took a hammer to the midsection of the snake, though it did not seem to do much good, nor did the bullets that the human workers were now firing at it. 

Knowing his alchemy would not hurt the soldiers, Roy transmuted once again, now hitting his mark as the blaze erupted forth, singing and burning the large horizontal scales on the beast’s belly. 

Releasing the remaining rocks it had in its mouth from the slate soldier to hiss in pain, the snake flinched violently, slamming itself down into the sand to put the flame out. As it did so, more slate soldiers advanced on it to attack with melee weapons, yet the snake’s great tail whipped them away as it regained itself. 

Before Roy was able to transmute again, however, the snake spun around and fled, managing to quickly dive into the sand and bury itself without a trace. 

A few moments of shock passed before the workers hurried over to their fallen comrade, with Damocles shouting orders to her fellow slate soldiers, commanding them to continue their search for the beast before it fled too far.

Needless to say, when Benelli, who had been waiting on the city’s outskirts, heard what happened, he was instantly upon the Amestrians, urging them back on the path to the capital with the utmost haste and fear. As they mounted their horses once again, shaken up but not that frightened, the Aerugan chattered worriedly. 

“I do hope this does not taint the remainder of your stay,” he spoke, often repeating similar things, as if there was any chance the foreigners would blame him or his country for the danger. 

“With all due respect, Sir Benelli,” Olivier said, finally fed up. “This does not change our opinion of you or your country. Sure, that was definitely startling, but if you knew what we had seen…”

She felt her comrades’ eyes on her as she sighed, “This was nothing.”

“Will that man be okay?” Osprey asked, nearly in tears. 

“He’s alive, but our on-site medical staff is seeing to him now,” Benelli replied, voice still laced with hesitation, though not near as urgent as it was before Olivier had spoken. 

The young soldier nodded, sniffling, as her partner touched her shoulder comfortingly. 

Their horses rode on, unaware of the beast that had shown itself in the inner city, towards civilization. The majority of their trip was filled with silence, until Miles spoke up quietly, bringing his horse close to the lieutenant general’s. 

“So, what’re you thinking?” He asked her, his low tone hushed.  

“The only thing I’ve ever seen bend the laws of nature like that has been alchemy,” his wife replied, her eyes locked forward. “But besides the size, it seemed to be like a normal snake. Except…”

One of the quarter-Ishvalan’s eyebrows lifted. 

“Did it seem… Strangely intelligent to you?”

After a brief moment in thought, Miles nodded, “I’m no expert, but I know a bit about desert snakes from Ishval. They tend to bury themselves in the sand and wait to ambush any prey that wanders past them. Very simple-minded.”

“Yet it had the capacity to wait for its opponent to attack, and put the fire on its stomach out,” Olivier murmured in response, earning another nod from Miles. 

“I’m not sure what could explain it.”

“Me neither,” the blonde frowned. “I’ll think more on it and let you know if I come up with anything.”

“I’ll do the same.”

“We’re almost there,” Benelli suddenly spoke up from ahead of the group. “Prince Salvatore is ready to see you, so we’ll head over to meet with him at once.”

Upon entering the city, nothing had changed-- citizens still flooded the streets, only parting the way for parades to pass through. The fresh smells and the bright sights served to calm the Amestrians somewhat, yet Olivier still did not feel quite at ease.

It was worsened by the feeling that there were eyes on her.

Glancing around, all of the festival-goers were distracted by the celebration. Craning her neck to look behind her, none of the Amestrains were looking at her either. She caught Roy’s gaze, however, who seemed to notice her strange look, tilting his head curiously. 

Nearly her whole adult life spent in the military had taught her strict caution, so she was _ sure  _ someone was looking at her. She swept her sights across the road ahead of her once again, somehow locking eyes with a deep red gaze not unlike that of her husband’s. 

An Ishvalan boy stared wide-eyed at her from a narrow alleyway. He looked to be around nine or ten years old, his fluffy white hair mussed up and his sand-colored desert robes dirtied and patched up in places. The only thing not worn or torn on him was his orange sash. 

Instantly, Oliveir pulled on her horse’s reins, causing it to whinny and hesitate in its steps. 

“What is it?” Miles asked, making his own horse pause beside hers. 

As the horses stopped in their tracks, the boy shrunk back slightly, aware that he had been spotted. He only spent another moment staring at them before ducking back into the alleyway. 

“Did you see him?” Olivier asked, eyes trained on where the boy once stood. “There was an Ishvalan boy.”

“Really?” Miles blinked, turning his attention to the general direction of where Olivier was looking.

“He was watching us.”

“I haven’t seen any Ishvalans here,” Miles spoke, frowning somewhat in confusion. “Was he alone?”

“Looked like it. He was really dirty, and his clothes were old and worn.”

“Would you like to go after him?”

Olivier glanced up ahead at Benelli hurrying along, since he, in his haste, had not noticed them stopping. Behind them, the other Amestrians on their horses were beginning to catch up. 

“No,” she finally said. “We need to speak to the prince. If we see him again, we’ll pursue the matter, but for now, we can just hope he’ll be okay. He ran off, anyway; if we went after him now, there’s no telling where he can run off to.”

Nodding, they continued on their way in silence. Eventually, they arrived at the intricate gates of the capital building, the armed human guards at the front nodding to Benelli and allowing them all entrance. 

The capital’s interior was somehow even more extravagant than the hotel the Amestrians had stayed in. The walls seemed to be made of marble, with alabaster sculptures and some small artifacts from Angarii sealed away behind glass as they sat upon decorative shelves.

“I feel like I need to take my shoes off in here,” Miles murmured to himself, and while his voice was quiet, Olivier still heard him, resulting in a chuckle from her. 

They were formally received by a well-dressed man who looked to be barely twenty years old. He bowed deeply to them, greeting them each by name before leading them up the elevator at the end of the main hallway.

Even the small transportation room was eloquent. Each wall, in addition to the ceiling, was a mirror, instantly catching the intense attention of Osprey and Corsair. After several button-presses, the elevator began to move upwards. 

“I hope you don’t mind if your guards wait outside,” Benelli broke the silence as the elevator began to slow. “Considering this is quite the important political meeting.”

Olivier instantly felt two pairs of eyes on her, yet she nodded, “That’s fine. Just don’t run off, you two.”

The elevator gracefully came to a stop as the mirrored doors opened ahead of them. The two young Amestrians each murmured a quiet “yes ma’am” as the rest of their group exited. 

They were immediately in what Olivier could already tell was the room where the prince met with his advisors and foreign dignitaries. It was not a place for him to stay in too often, like her office at Briggs; many of the decorations were large and fancy, praising the country’s exploits and honoring important figures throughout its history. Where Olivier’s office was practical, this room was showy without too outright saying so. 

At the opposite end of the large room, the majority of the wall was made into a window, looking out onto the busy streets below, where citizens celebrated. The only thing obscuring the view was the prince himself, his back to the foreigners as he gazed upon his principality. 

“Prince Salvatore,” Benelli greeted, bowing lowly, the Amestrians naturally following suit without prompting. “Our Amestrian guests are here to speak with you.”

Salvatore turned with a calm, regal smile. Politely, he returned the bow, “I’ve been looking forward to this meeting, my dear friends. I am Prince Matteo Salvatore Aerugo, and I’m very pleased to make your acquaintances.”

The introductions were brief, followed by Salvatore inviting his guests to sit around his desk, where the appropriate number of seats had already been set up. 

Without wasting any time, he began to speak about the recent terrorism.

“I’m sure Benelli has kept you up to date on what’s been happening with the attacks on our city?” Salvatore questioned, extending a hand to his advisor, who handed him a rolled-up map. 

“Mainly that you don’t know who is doing it, since you can’t seem to catch them. But there seems to be a pattern to the attacks, right?” Roy asked in return, Olivier sitting off to the side. While she listened, she glanced around the room. 

Several maps lined the walls alongside paintings, photographs, and political documents. Among the maps were several depicting more localized areas of Aerugo, like the capital one Benelli had produced to give to the prince, but also of countries like Drachma and Amestris and their major cities. 

She zoned out for a moment, focusing on the gnawing in her stomach, realizing she had not eaten for a while, and the cravings were beginning to once again set in. 

“I would like to know if any of you have any ideas as to what we could do about this,” she heard the prince say. “I’ve exhausted as much manpower as I possibly can, considering that we’re having to fend off both these terrorists in addition to the Biscione threatening our dig sites.”

“Have you tried ambushing them?” Olivier asked suddenly. “If you know where they’ll strike next, you can catch them before they’re able to execute their plans.”

“In a way,” Salvatore sighed softly, defeatedly. “We’ve used our knowledge of their patterns in order to try and reinforce the defense in some areas, and that has lessened the blow of their attacks somewhat, but I fear that it’s too dangerous to set up a manned ambush like that. I believe they’re too smart for that, and they’ll be onto our plan the moment we make it. It will end in my men’s lives lost, and all for nothing.”

“Your men aren’t us, Prince Salvatore,” Olivier replied casually. “I’d venture to say those you’ve had at these faux-ambushes have just been enlisted?”   
He nodded.    
“Well, with us, you would have a general who has waged war against an army multiple times the size of her own brigade, and a state alchemist. Not to mention a focused and finely-trained sniper and a master military planner.”

She was sure Miles was beaming beside her, at her high praise.

As she spoke of her companions, the Aerugan’s eyes darted between them, in consideration. His gaze met with that of his advisor for a brief moment, before he released the breath he was holding. 

“Perhaps you’re right. This is why I requested your assistance down here, after all. You all are very capable. But wouldn’t you be worried…?”

He trailed off, and Olivier knew he meant the state of motherhood she was in. 

“I deferred a battalion of Drachman soldiers, in the middle of the worst blizzard of the year, with three ribs and a leg broken, and half of my men incapacitated. I think a few extra pounds and some fatigue won’t hinder my ability to perform in my military duties. Besides, you can ask anyone here; I’m _ very _ careful when I need to be,” the blonde leaned back in her seat somewhat.

He nodded, understanding, “Very well, then, Lieutenant General. The next supposed attack is tomorrow, and judging by their location patterns, it looks like it will be in this area.”

He circled an area on the map with his index finger. 

“I can send you in with armed men and as many weapons as you think you will personally need. I’d like to take as many alive as possible, just in case they’re part of a larger operation. Does that sound good?”

The lieutenant and five-star generals exchanged a glance, mulling over the idea silently for a moment, before Roy nodded. 

“Is there anything else you will need?”

“Let us in on the Biscione business,” Olivier spoke as Roy opened his mouth to respond. “We may be able to take care of that situation as well, or at least offer some assistance to your soldiers.”

The prince looked taken aback, and the advisor looked as if his entire body had stiffened, perhaps in preparation for his leader to react with anger, or something similar. 

“I… Why? The terrorism threat is already a large and dangerous job on its own. The Biscione isn’t at all predictable, and it can’t be reasoned with in the way a human can. Why would you want to take on that job in addition to this one?”

“Call me a bit of a history buff,” Olivier replied coolly, not removing her eyes from the prince’s. “I’ve always been interested in Angarii, and if the snake threatens the artifacts there, I’d like to help stop it.”

Though he seemed unsure, the Aerugan prince nodded hesitantly, “If you like. After tomorrow, I’ll give you any information I can on it, if that’s alright with you.”

The blonde’s nod satisfied him. 

“Alright, then. Unless I find something else to inform you about, that’ll be the end of this meeting. I do hope you enjoy the remainder of your stay here, and that you all stay as safe as possible, and that we can get to the bottom of both of these issues,” Salvatore stood, shaking Roy’s, then Olivier’s hand. “It was a pleasure to speak to you all.”

He pressed a button on his desk, summoning the elevator once again. Standing, the Amestrians made their way towards the back of the room as Benelli remained to quietly speak to the prince further. 

“Uh, Liv?” Roy whispered to her, the annoyance in his voice obvious. “Don’t go making playdates with monsters without my permission next time.”

“Don’t come, then,” Olivier retorted, her expression cold and levelled. “I want to get to the bottom of that thing. Sure, history is great, but there’s something strange about it. About those slate soldiers, too.”

“I think your long days at Briggs have left you too paranoid for your own good,” Roy huffed, earning a rough shove from the other general. 

“Paranoia got me my rank as general far quicker than yours did in the long run. While you kissed ass at East and Central, I was defending our country from a very real threat. I know what I’m doing, and if you don’t want any part in it, that’s fine by me.”

“While you were playing conspiracy theorist,” Roy snapped quietly. “Did you happen to notice the Amestrian map on the wall?”

She nodded, glancing up at him. 

“It looks eerily detailed compared to the others. It also seems a little too worn for the rest of the items displayed, as if it’s seen a copious amount of use recently.”   
“You’re saying they’ve been looking at it an awful lot?”

Her quiet comment drew Miles’ and Riza’s attention. 

“If you’re comfortable staying down here, Riza and I may return to Amestris. If they’ve been doing some snooping, I want to make sure all of our borders are secured. I  _ was _ going to bring up the message you found in Drachma, but…”

“No,” Olivier shook her head, her tone showing agreement. “I see where you’re going with it, and that was for the best.”

“Would you like to do it, or shall we?”

“I legitimately want to see for myself what’s going on here,” Olivier replied, watching the light above the elevator indicate what floor it was currently on. “You can go, but I’d ask that you hang near the border just in case things go south.”

“Of course,” Roy nodded in return. 

“But you must know,” Olivier continued. “That’s  _ you _ playing conspiracy theorist, too.”

“Maybe I just want to start living up to my title,” he replied amusedly. “I’m a higher rank than you now, so I guess I’ve gotta be more paranoid.”

The elevator opened, the same young man welcoming the guests onto it. 

“Shall we go investigate the area of our objective, then?” Olivier asked, her voice normal now as she spoke to her comrades, their words no longer confidential. “I’m dying to see what the terrorists find so interesting there.”


	7. Carmine // Azure

The following day arrived sooner than expected. 

Their target was a busy block in one of the higher-end financial districts in the town. Thankfully, there were not many people to preemptively evacuate due to the festivals; so once the few businessmen and office workers were led safely out of the supposed area of attack, it was time for the trap to be set. 

The day prior, the Amestrians went to scout out the area, before returning the following day and taking a closer look at the situation before them. While Roy discussed the plan with some Aerugan soldiers, Olivier took the liberty of laying eyes on the grounds themselves. With the nature of housing business and office work, the buildings, while still retaining their classic-styled architecture, were much taller and closer together than others seen in the capital. Said closeness of these buildings caused many narrow alleyways to line the main street, enough for a whole military platoon to be led through if in a single-file formation. 

In addition, the height of the buildings was an enormous hazard in itself. No matter what the terrorists used, whether it be fire or explosives, if this  _ was _ going to be their location of attack, buildings  _ would _ be falling. 

She stepped inside the entrance of one alley, just far enough to see within. Save for some garbage cans, like the others, it was empty-- so she moved on to the next.

The streets had been emptied, so their job was easy for the time being. Several alleyways behind her on the opposite side of the street, Olivier could hear Miles speaking to a soldier. No one was near her, though she knew he was keeping a close, protective eye on her from afar. 

Until she was out of his line of sight, and eyes remained on her. She glanced around; the alley was dark as it sat in the shade of the buildings, yet it was still somewhat illuminated by the sunlight from the road outside. 

“Hello?” She frowned, her tone expressing the utmost caution. With no response, she paused for a moment to think. 

This particular alleyway was much more crowded, with more boxes and containers and debris-- someone could be hiding behind nearly anything, given they were short enough. There was a strange familiarity to what she was feeling, as if she had been in this situation before; and  _ recently _ . She did not feel as if she was being hunted, but observed. 

So, she took a risk. 

Carefully, she leaned against the wall, pretending to wistfully glance back out towards the street. It was difficult given who she was, but she made an attempt to seem as non-threatening as possible. 

Which seemed to work, as a few moments later, she heard soft footsteps pad up to her from the darkness. Glancing down, slowly and casually, her hunch had been correct after all-- she saw the little Ishvalan boy. 

He stared up at her, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and curiosity, as he steadied himself with a small hand against the wall, ready to dart at a moment’s notice. Upon a quick closer inspection, Olivier really got to notice how tattered his clothing was. The ends of the sand-colored cloak he wore were torn and ragged, with sleeves slightly too long for his arms. His sandals were scuffed and the straps had very obviously been broken and haphazardly fixed multiple times. Even his face and hair were a mess; with his white hair tousled and tangled, his face dirtied. The only thing clean on him was the orange and black sash of his ancestors-- which would make sense. Being a symbol of the Ishvalan religion, if he was actively practicing, he would naturally take the utmost care of it even at the expense of the rest of his clothing. 

“Hello,” Olivier spoke, suppressing the suspicion that tried to rise in her. “Have you been following me?”

He shook his head, lifting a hand to move some hair out of his eyes. 

“It was just a coincidence I saw you yesterday,  _ and _ today?”

He nodded gently, hair bouncing somewhat.

“Are you alone?”

He did not move. 

“You can tell me,” the Amestrian continued. “I won’t tell anyone you’re here, if you don’t want me to.”

His large, childlike eyes continued staring up at her, the color resembling those of her husband’s in a way that somewhat endeared her to him. 

“Are you afraid?”

Another shake of his head. 

“So, I’m assuming there’s no one with you?”

He hesitated, though he shook his head once again. 

It had been years upon years since Olivier had spoken to a child who was old enough to understand her. While taking care of Karelia had warmed her up to the idea of children long before her own child had come into the picture, she was still entirely out of practice despite spending a large portion of her early life caring for all of her younger siblings. She pondered her next words carefully, not wanting to startle him, but wholly curious about who he was and where he had come from. 

“Are you from here?”

A shake of the head.

“I see,” Olivier sighed softly, glancing at the stone floor. “Well, my name is Olivier. I’m from far away from here.”

He nodded, seeming to understand. 

“What’s your name?”

He was silent for a long moment as Olivier’s blue eyes met and contrasted his own. Finally, in a barely audible voice, he spoke;

“Asa.”

“Hello, Asa,” Olivier smiled gently, causing his shoulders to visibly relax somewhat. “You’ve been watching me a lot, haven’t you?”

It looked as if he felt guilty for a moment, though Asa did not have to ponder his small nod. 

“How come?”

This time, his silence was drawn out. Still, Olivier was patient. 

When he began again, his voice was soft and apprehensive.

“Are you going to have a baby?”

She blinked; that was a question she definitely had not been expecting. Without knowing, she settled a hand on her stomach. 

“I am. Do you like babies?”

Asa’s eyes, wide in wonder, were trained on her stomach as he nodded. He started to reach out a hand, but hesitated, having seemingly remembering his manners, “Could I feel..?”

She inspected him quickly, though saw no weapons on him. All he seemed to have on his person were the clothes on his back. 

She didn’t know him, so she remained cautious, “Yes, just be careful.”

Almost instantly, he set two small hands against her pregnant belly; the touches light and careful, as if he had done so before. 

“Most kids I’ve seen your age don’t like babies, you know,” Olivier spoke, amusedly. “Are you a big brother?”

He nodded, paused, then shook his head; more slowly, as if it pained him, “My mama was going to have a baby.”

Understanding, Olivier did not pursue with her questions, though it didn’t seem as if she had to.

“They’re all gone now.”

While she did not want to pry, Olivier knew she needed as much information about the area as possible-- and given that Asa was the only Ishvalan they had seen in the city, she wanted to know.

“What happened to them?”

She heard Miles’ voice behind her, calling out her name, causing Asa to jump and look all around him as if he were a cornered animal. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” she turned to him before beckoning her husband over as he peered into the alleyway. “This is Miles, he’s very nice.”

Her husband, obviously confused at the sight before him, made his way over. 

“Miles, this is Asa. He’s the one who’s been so interested in our little party,” the lieutenant general said, looking between the two of them. 

Though still confused, Miles was able to wipe it from his face for a moment in favor of a kind smile, “Hello.”

Suddenly, Asa removed his hands, pointing an index finger at the colonel, “You look like me.”

This caused Miles to chuckle softly, “Or,  _ you _ look like  _ me _ . I guess there aren’t many people around here like us, huh?”

Shaking his head, Asa finally allowed himself a small smile. 

“Roy was looking for you,” Miles began, as he turned to Olivier. “He says we’re about ready to set up.”   
“Alright,” the blonde spoke, straightening somewhat. They each took a step towards the street, hearing the small footsteps mirror their own behind them. 

Olivier glanced back at the young Ishvalan now following them, his behavior reminiscent of a lost puppy.

“Would you like to come with us?” She asked back to him, earning a small nod in return. 

A few steps further, they were in the street, Asa hiding behind them. Roy was already nearby, glancing into each alleyway as he looked for the lieutenant general. 

“You looking for me, jackass?” Olivier called out to him, gathering his attention. 

“Finally! I’ve been looking for you,” Roy yelled back, picking up his pace to a jog as he neared them. 

Out of nowhere, Asa tightly gripped the golden sash Olivier wore. She felt the slight tug, so she glanced over her shoulder to see him trembling, wide-eyed once again as he started at the man approaching them. 

“Asa, what’s--”

All at once, he let go of her sash, spinning around-- Olivier hadn’t even had a chance to finish her question before he had fled in a frightened dash back into the alleyway. 

Miles had seen it as well, as the couple was left staring at the alley’s entrance in an equal share of confusion. 

“Who was that?” The other general asked as he slowed to a stop in front of them. 

“A kid,” Olivier replied, her words spoken slowly. 

“Did I scare him?” Roy asked, somewhat surprising Olivier with how apologetic he sounded. “I didn’t see him behind you guys, I’m sorry.”

“Why would he run?” Miles asked, brows furrowed. “He wasn’t frightened when I came to meet you, Olivier.”

“He seemed really interested in the fact that you were Ishvalan,” Olivier replied. 

At this, Roy’s shoulders sagged, causing Olivier to look back at him questioningly. 

“You don’t think,” the alchemist began with a sigh. “You don’t think he remembers me, do you?”

“From what?” It was Olivier’s eyebrows that now knit together. “You’ve never been in Aerugo before, right?”

“No, not from Aerugo. From the massacre.”

He had been calling the Ishvalan Civil War by a new name recently, Olivier had noticed. 

“Hey, chin up, dumbass,” she continued, her encouragement always and forever muddled by her antagonism. “He was really young, he probably doesn’t remember that. Who’s to say he was around then?”

“If you say so,” Roy replied, picking himself up and turning his back to them. “We’re setting up a makeshift base in one of the office buildings, come over there whenever you’re ready and we’ll give you two a run-down of the plan.”

Without allowing her to reply, he started on his way back to said location. 

“It seems like that really bothered him,” Miles spoke up once the five-star general was out of earshot.

“The worst part is he may be correct,” Olivier replied, pursing her lips in thought. “Asa told me his parents were gone. If he somehow has survived on his own for this long, that may mean his parents lost their lives in the war.”

A moment of solemn silence drew out between the two for a moment. 

“Well, let’s not dwell on that. There’s nothing saying that’s the reason, we’ll only know if we ever meet him again. Which,” the colonel smiled. “I think we will. He seems to be rather taken with you.”

“I don’t know why,” his wife replied coldly. 

“You’re pretty motherly.”

He smiled as she sighed, “I have this stupid, annoying urge to mother _ everyone  _ now. I hate it, it’s not like me. What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” the Ishvalan replied lightheartedly as he took one last glance down the alley to confirm that the boy was gone. “That protective side has always been in you; I even saw it in you when you commanded your men. It’s just got a softer tune to it now.”

“Well,” Olivier grumbled. “The day I pack snacks in my bag for everyone at work and I start to bring that idiot a pillow and blanket for when he falls asleep at his desk, shoot me please.”

Miles chuckled softly, looping an arm around her waist as they started towards the target area. 

  
  


Both living Aerugans and slate soldiers were now in attendance, each setting up in their own assigned spots. As Olivier and Miles entered the building, they noticed several men carrying sniper rifles as they finished speaking to Roy, before making their way to the elevator. 

Several slate soldiers were stationed outside, a few holding heavy guns while others held melee weapons. Above them, foot soldiers with mosin nagants sat themselves down in front of open windows, and even farther upwards, were the snipers. 

After greeting the couple, Roy laid down the plan for them; “We have some snipers set up in the three tallest buildings on this block. Riza and I will be in the building across the street while the two of you will remain here.”

He glanced out the window briefly, making sure everything was in order. 

“We also had small teams scout out every floor of every building in the immediate area, primarily every tall building including the buildings in the perimeters of each. If explosives are set in a smaller building, if it’s next to a taller one, they could still have the potential to knock the taller one down. In addition, we had them take note of any chemical leaks, but there weren’t any detected.”

“So, what are you thinking they’ll do?” Olivier asked, eyeing the busy Aerugan soldiers as they hurried to prepare around them. 

“It’s hard to say,” Roy replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “Some men on the ground floors have been given gask masks in the event that they use phosgene, but besides that, there haven’t been any explosives or any substances that aid in combustion that we’ve found. Just in case, though,” he lifted both his bare hands, “I’ve left my gloves in Riza’s briefcase. If for some reason there’s some flammable things we missed, I wouldn’t want to accidentally contribute to the blaze just because my gloves have flint in them.”

“Good thinking,” Olivier spoke, watching as the other general retrieved two pistols. 

“These are fully loaded and ready, if you have to use them,” he began, handing off the pistols before gathering up a handheld transceiver. “This is also yours, but we’ve also left every group leader with a flare gun as well. The channel on that one is already set and good to go.”

“Thanks,” Miles spoke, taking the device. “How long are we going to wait, do you think?”

“Reports stated that most attacks happened between eleven in the morning and four in the afternoon, so depending on if we see any activity, we’ll probably call it quits around six. I’ll keep you updated, though,” Roy continued, making his way to the door. “Don’t hesitate to radio in if you see anything out of the ordinary.”

“Roger,” Olivier affirmed, watching him exit. “Where shall we set up, Miles?”

She turned to see him picking some binoculars and a rifle up from a supply crate, “I’d say one of the floors between where the infantry and snipers are. If they have snipers of their own and they see the glint of a rifle in the light, they’ll fire at it-- so I’d venture to say that it’s better if we lay low without our guns out the window. We can just use binoculars for the time being, and radio in if we see anything.”

“Sounds good to me,” the blonde replied, grabbing an extra case of rounds for his rifle. 

She knew the next few hours would most likely be boring, though it would be worth it if their plan succeeded. 

  
  


And boring it was, until the first gunshot rang out. Instantly, a red flare was shot into the sky from one of the windows below them, and Miles, who had been peering outside with his binoculars, nearly threw himself backwards to get away from the window. 

Olivier had been resting against the wall beside him as he jumped back, so she was able to stick an arm out to prevent him from falling, “Was that near us?”

Her ability to stay calm in situations such as this always amazed him, “Sounded like it. I never saw anyone from my angle, though.”

On his knees, Miles crept back up to the window, peeking out of it once again, though much more carefully this time. Across the empty street, he saw the shine of several snipers as their wielders turned their attention towards them. They did not fire, however, as if they knew activity was going on, though they had no eyes on it. 

“This isn’t good,” Miles murmured to himself, pausing and lowering his face to the carpet in an attempt to hear anything on the floors below them. “If they storm this building, we’ll be trapped, Olivier. We need to get out.”

“We may be safer inside than outside,” Olivier responded, as it was her turn to cautiously look out the window. “If we were somehow able to evacuate from this window, we’d be sitting ducks. Even if we got down to the street, we’d be easy targets out in the open.”

“True,” Miles sighed, moving over to one of the many desks of the office workers, staying low and out of sight of the window in question. It took some effort, given that he wasn’t standing up straight, but he was eventually able to quietly turn the desk onto its side. 

Wordlessly, understanding, Olivier moved behind the desk, pistol in hand. 

“I knew it was a bad idea to come here and do this,” Miles spoke, his voice low as he took his place beside her, holding his rifle. “You and the baby are in danger now. No more of this.”

“I would hope that you, of all people, would know that I know what I’m doing,” Olivier replied, frowning somewhat. “Miles, I’ve been told all my life that I’m too reckless and I don’t care about what happens to me or the people serving under me, as long as the job is done. But that’s not how a military leader becomes successful.”

An exchange of gunfire was heard within the building, several floors below them. 

“There’s wisdom is caution and knowing when  _ and _ when not to exercise it,” she continued, her voice a whisper as her husband sat motionless, the tip of his rifle balanced on the top of the desk, ready to fire in the direction of the stairs.

“Aerugo should have taken care of its own problems without dragging us into it,” Miles replied, his voice equal to hers in volume, though filled with an angry frustration. “Don’t you think it’s odd that they asked us to come down, and when we arrive with such a small group, they don’t question it? If this was a formal matter of political assistance, they would’ve requested a damn platoon, or larger. I don’t trust them, and neither should you.”

“I don’t,” Olivier huffed. 

“I know that you know what you’re doing, but Olivier, we’ve got our baby to think of now, too. The only thing worse than this that we could have done would have been to _ literally  _ go to the front lines of active combat. We’re still in a foreign country that we’ve had on-off war with, and to top off the  _ disaster  _ that our relations are, they were sending arms to Drachma!”

The gunshots ceased briefly, though unintelligible yelling was heard. 

“That’s why I decided to come! If they’re planning something, especially with that eerie message our radios picked up, I want to make sure they aren’t able to do anything while we’re here! I have reason to believe that they wouldn’t try anything on us, since we’re such a small party-- if we went missing, the first culprits Amestris would suspect would be the Aerugan government, and this country wouldn’t risk a full-on attack from us. I know Grumman-- he’s a strange bastard, but he wouldn’t hesitate to send entire brigades here to avenge us.”

“Not unless they used their own little problems against us,” Miles shot her a glance. “What leads you to think this whole mess isn’t a plot to get us killed while getting some of the terrorists taken care of as well?”

“They’d be banking on a lot with that,” Olivier returned it. “We could’ve always said no to helping them.”

This caused Miles to sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding up his rifle. 

“Besides, I don’t trust Roy to be able to take care of this all on his own. If I’m being honest, he’s capable, but I have more experience with foreign issues than he does, while his experience lies in domestic conflicts.”

“You could’ve just sent someone here in your stead. Communicate with them so they know exactly what to do.”

“Radioing back and forth from Aerugo to Amestris in this sort of situation would be dangerous. If whoever I sent discovered something about the government and they tried to get back to me about it, the lines could be tapped, and they could be killed.” 

At a loss, Miles remained silent for a moment, allowing the two of them to listen to the few extra gunshots below them. 

“I just want you and the baby to be safe,” he finally admitted, his tone soft, defeatedly. “I would have come here without you, if it meant you’d be safe.”

“I would have come anyway. I want you to be safe, too, you know,” the lieutenant general replied, her tone also softening. 

“But  _ you _ know I wouldn’t have let you come alone in a million years,” Miles continued. From her angle, Olivier could not see his face, though she heard the slight, exhausted smile in his voice. 

“I want this world to be as safe for them as possible,” she spoke, resting a hand on her stomach. She began again, amusedly, “I’ll be damned if I’ll trust anyone else besides you and I to get the job done.”

His chuckle brought a smile to her own face, “Just know that this looks bad, and I’m  _ mad _ at you right now, but I love you.”

“I love you too. And I know you’re right, so I promise from now on to be more careful.”

The gunshots shook the floor beneath them, silencing them both. 

Miles, eyes trained on the stairs, flinched when something was thrown into the room. Instinctually, he dropped the rifle, hunkering down and pulling Olivier close to him, to shield her.

However, there was no grenade-born explosion-- instead, the hissing of a smoke grenade echoed throughout the room, swiftly filling it with gray smog.

Miles had squeezed his eyes shut as he held her, yet Olivier squirmed in his embrace in an attempt to escape. Several pairs of heavy boots ran up into the room, continuing up the stairs to the higher floors, yet one pair remained, slowly padding around and occasionally pausing. 

Unable to see, she blindly felt around for her pistol, to no avail. The footsteps drew nearer, until stopping in front of the desk. 

She felt Miles tighten his hold on her, and upon glancing up at him, their blue and red eyes met.

All she saw was fear and regret. 

Until she looked past him at the figure who had rounded the desk, Miles turning his head to see them as well. 

The smokescreen was strong, though in a moment of clarity, Olivier could make out the shape of a young man. Clad heavily in tactical gear and at about her standing height, he towered over them as they sat huddled against the side of the desk. 

However, his outfit and military equipment wasn’t the strangest part.

He wore a pair of goggles and a face mask decorated with the motif of an animal’s skeletal jaws, though atop his head was messy, white hair. The uncovered skin on his neck was dark in color, and at first glance, Olivier instantly thought of an Ishvalan-- though the narrowed eyes that shone through the goggles were a deep blue rather than a red. 

Even more peculiar, however, were his arms. The things that held his infantry rifle were not flesh, but metallic, though much more cobbled-together and haphazard than what would normally be considered automail. 

Miles scrambled to grab his rifle, though at his first movement, their attacker aimed his rifle. Surprisingly, however, he did not fire once Miles froze. 

He seemed to ponder the two of them for a moment. From what Olivier could see, his eyes seemed to dart across Miles’ features before moving onto her. 

She noticed his pause once his gaze landed on her abdomen. His shoulders sagged somewhat, the rifle’s aim lowering. 

Shouting and gunfire from the floor above instantly drew his attention, his head snapping up to the ceiling. After stealing one more long glance at the two of them, he turned and hurried up the stairs.

As soon as he was out of sight, Miles grabbed his firearm, just in case there were others. The smoke had begun to settle, however, so Olivier took a moment to peek up over the desk once again. No one else was in the room with them, yet the fighting from above continued. 

It was now that she noticed their radio, with Roy’s voice frantically screaming at them on the other end. 

Without a thought, she muted it, so it would not draw the attention of any others. 

Several minutes passed, the sounds of fighting growing increasingly quieter. Eventually, there was silence, save for the same stomping of boots as the enemy group made its way back down the stairs. 

Once the sound of their steps faded, Miles stood.

“I’m going to see if there’s any survivors,” he said, voice quiet, with an emotion Olivier had never heard from him before. 

It was empty, as if he had not expected to survive. 

“I’m coming with you,” Olivier immediately said, standing as well, using the desk to support her. 

The Ishvalan turned to her, his mouth open, prepared to disagree. However, as their eyes met, he stopped. 

“Trust me,” his wife spoke, her voice gentle-- yet from deep within, her authority was ever-present. 

And he knew. 

They made their way to the stairs quietly, their steps near-silent as they each crept upwards; Miles in the lead with his rifle as Olivier took up the rear, holding onto her pistol. 

A hot, burning smell met them as they entered the next room. Spent ammunition shells littered the floor alongside many bodies-- some wearing the red Aerugan uniform, while others donned the same tactical gear as the one who had seen Olivier and Miles. 

The same one who was now crouched before them, his back to the stairs as he knelt to the body of one of his comrades. 

Unbeknownst to him, a fourth survivor drew closer to him as well. 

As he seemed to mourn the body in front of him, he did not notice the Aerugan soldier behind him until the red-cloaked soldier put the barrel of his pistol against the back of the white-haired man’s head. 

“Ishvalan scum,” he spoke in the thick, romantic accent that seemed so foreign to the two Amestrians. “You think you could outsmart us.”

“I’m not Ishvalan,” the young man replied, also with an accent, though with one not nearly as heavy. He did not move a muscle, yet his mechanical arms twitched somewhat, one smoking very lightly from the elbow joint. “There’s no Ishvalans around here anymore.”

“It makes no difference,” the Aerugan cocked his pistol. “Your kind has no place here, and I’ll be happy to see you dead in front of me.”

Feeling Miles tense beside her, Olivier made a decision. 

 

She took a step forward; the gunshot echoing throughout the entirety of the death-filled room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lotsa new ocs in this chapter eh
> 
> this is one chapter that i kind of spent forever to write. it's been getting harder and harder with each chapter, but stuff is finally starting to happen, so here's hoping i'm able to continue.
> 
> as always, i appreciate you, reader, so much. thank you for reading, and if you haven't, please leave a kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed <3


	8. The Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this chapter is shorter than like any other ive ever posted and i'm sorry for that. i also didn't edit this because i just wanted to have it posted so i apologize for that as well. ive just been having a hard time continuing this and while i really dont want it to die off like two of the three other longfics i have, im just really struggling. 
> 
> hope you enjoy

The Aerugan’s body hit the floor with a hard thud; the pistol in Olivier’s hand still smoking as the young man swung around to see what had just happened behind him. 

“O-Olivier!” Miles stammered, a hand gripped uncomfortably tightly onto her arm. 

“They’ll never know,” Olivier responded, her voice low and cold as her hand fell to her side. “You heard what he said to him.  _ ‘Ishvalan scum’ _ , Miles?”

“Well, yes,” her husband quieted. 

The young man stared up at the two of them; his goggles and face mask removed to reveal surprisingly normal features, contrasting the look of his arms. 

“You’re Amestrian,” he stated, keeping very still, understandably untrusting. “Why are you here?”

“The prince called us down to assist him,” Olivier began, her eyes narrowing somewhat. “With a certain terrorist threat.”

“Is that what they’re calling us now?” The young man frowned, standing, fearless. 

“What would you rather be called? By every textbook definition,” the blonde woman continued, staring him down without backing down. “You’ve been committing domestic terrorism.”

“Who do you even think you are?” He took a step towards her, pausing when Miles took a step as well. He looked up at the taller man as he spoke, “You shouldn’t get involved with Aerugan affairs. I can assure you, you don’t know the whole story.”

“I’m aware,” the lieutenant general replied coolly. “Why else would I have shot the man who was about to end your life?”

The young man paused; his hostility not wavering, though obviously deep in thought. 

“I’d advise you back off,” she continued. “If you want any chance of us hearing you out. I’m willing to listen.”

“Olivier,” Miles whispered cautiously. 

Looking between the two of them, the stranger spoke up to them, addressing Miles, “Is that baby yours?”

“A little personal, don’t you think?” The Amestrian huffed. 

The Ishvalan exhaled proudly through his nose, red eyes narrowing suspiciously, “Yes.”

“So is it safe to assume relations between Amestrians and Ishvalans have improved in your country?”

“We’re working on it,” Olivier took the liberty of responding. “We have a whole program with soldiers and civil war veterans who are working directly alongside Ishvalans to restore their homeland.”

“That’s a step in the right direction,” metallic arms twitched, as if in desperate need for repair. The only thing holding some wires together in places were thin strips of tape. “If only Aerugo would follow suit.”

“You said there weren’t any Ishvalans here,” Miles declared, a hand still gripping Olivier’s arm. At a gentle touch of her hand, he realized this; letting go. 

“There aren’t,” the young man replied, simply. “In ancient times, there was a Ishvalan sect out here in the Aerugan desert. I’m one of their descendants.”

Without moving her head, Olivier glanced up at Miles, their gazes meeting briefly. 

“I’m sure you have questions,” he continued. “But it would be much easier for me to show you than explain. You essentially saved my life, so I owe that much to you.”

The glint of a sniper from across the street shone through the window, drawing Olivier’s attention; which the stranger noticed. 

“But we’ve got to hurry out of here. We’ve already lost a lot of men, so I’ll withdraw them without any more bloodshed today. I’d feel more comfortable if it was just the two of you who came with us, though.”

“If you think for a second--” Miles began, though the other man cut him off. 

“I, nor any of my men, will hurt you. Our grievance isn’t with your country, and  _ especially _ not with an Ishvalan man and a pregnant woman. You can even keep your weapons, if you want.”

“That’s an awfully confident thing to say,” Olivier mused, eyeing him carefully.

“I’m not usually one to trust so easily,” the man shrugged. “But my faith is urging me to trust in this moment, and I’m not going to disagree with it.”

“Miles?” the blonde turned to look up at her husband, who looked back down at her in turn.

“I’ll follow you.”

With his confident affirmation, Olivier turned back to the young man, giving him a nod, “Fine, take us to whatever you want to show us.”

Nodding in reply, he stepped past the two of them, his rifle in hand, seemingly trusting them fully as he made his way towards the stairs. 

“Roy will be thrown into an absolute panic once he doesn’t hear from us,” Miles spoke up as Olivier turned to follow the supposed terrorist. 

“It’ll put this man’s group in jeopardy if we radio in,” the Amestrian woman responded, moving towards the stairs, the Ishvalan following very closely behind her. “Besides, if he doesn’t find our bodies, he’ll know something is up. He knows you and I wouldn’t die that easily.”

Miles nodded, reassured, though the other man spoke up ahead of them. 

“You two seem rather sure of yourselves and your survival,” he commented without turning to face them. “So I’m assuming this isn’t your first tango with near-death situations. Who are you, exactly?”

“Lieutenant General Armstrong and Colonel Miles,” Olivier responded, making her way carefully down the stairs behind him. “Up until recently, we had been stationed together at Fort Briggs for quite a hefty number of years. I was the commanding officer while Miles here was my adjutant, and we were the only line of defense between Amestris and Drachma for years upon years.”

“Up until recently,” Miles corrected. “Now there’s not as much of a dire need for a defensive border. We’re currently helping Drachma rebuild after it was wracked with political rebellion.”

“That was you?” the young man asked, almost as if in disbelief. “We’d got word of that whole mess down here. It was a big deal.”

“An understatement,” Olivier replied more quietly, absentmindedly resting a hand on her side. 

“Well, Armstrong and Miles of Briggs,” he continued, testing out the names on his light Aerugan accent. 

“I’m Jericho, of The Lost. Pleased to meet you.”

 

Roy scrambled over to his adjutant after nearly tripping down the stairs, his voice wracked with stress and worry amongst the nearby gunshots, “Captain, have you heard from them?”

“I’m afraid not, Sir,” Riza replied in the middle of trying to contact the building across from them, steadying her own tone. “We haven’t heard from anyone.”

“Shit,” Roy hissed between his teeth. “We have to go over there.”

“Moving from this building to the next means we’d have to cross the street, Sir, and that would leave us out in the open. Even having our own firepower from the snipers up top wouldn’t guarantee our safety.”

“You’re right,” the general sighed, quickly looking out the window nearest to him. A few minutes prior, they had seen some slight movement in one of the alleys across the street, though the only sign of a struggle in the other building had been the sound of gunshots and the lack of any response over the radio. “Have things seemed to calm down?”

“Seems like it thus far, sir,” Riza responded dutifully, peering through the sights of her own rifle. “On at least a few floors, it looked as if they deployed smoke grenades, since some of the windows were open. We were able to see some of the smoke waft out. If they had started actual fires, the building would be up in flames by now.”

“And?” Roy asked, pacing somewhat behind her 

“Besides that, the ones of us closer to the windows heard the shots. They were too fast to be bolt-action rifles; they sounded semi-automatic.”

“That’s some of the  _ worst _ news you could have shared with me, Captain.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Do you think it’s safe to head over?” Roy questioned, peeking out of the window beside her. “If all’s quiet and they haven’t left yet, we could catch them off-guard.”

“It’s your call, sir,” Riza spoke, finally taking her eyes off of the building across the street to meet his gaze. “If you’re that worried, we can.”

After pondering the notion and weighing his options for but a brief moment, Roy nodded.

 

Using furniture from the office building, they shielded themselves as they crossed the street. However, there was never any hostile fire. 

Once they got to a point where bullets could not be fired at them unless from a very specific angle, they left the furniture behind. As they made their way to the entrance of the building, the massive stone bodies of the two slate soldiers that once stood guard now sat, lifeless. 

It was ominous to see the once large and intimidating beings be reduced to what was essentially piles of rubble. Roy inched closer, careful, as the pulled one of his gloves on in the event that they were ambushed. Once he was able to deem that the being really was deceased, he got a closer look. 

They resembled large, hefty humans in their silhouette and shape. Humans wearing armor, specifically-- their heads were essentially ancient helmets carved out of stone. Roy later pondered and decided that it gave merit and validated Benelli’s story about them being from Angarii.

However, both of the helmet-shaped heads on these two soldiers had been split completely open, seemingly from above. There was no gore, and the scene was not gruesome in any way-- but one thing caused Roy’s breath to catch nervously in his throat. 

“What is it?” Riza questioned, making her way closer, having seen the general stop dead in his tracks. 

Wordlessly, she watched as he picked up a broken piece of stone from the pile. The rock itself was strong and sturdy, and despite having a large crack in the middle, it had miraculously not split completely down the middle. 

He turned, handing it off, earning the same reaction from her. 

In the middle of the hunk of stone, split neatly in half by the crack, was a transmutation circle. 

 

“I do hope you’re aware that you’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” Olivier spoke. She had given up watching Jericho like a hawk at this point; they had joined with the survivors of his crew, and they had set off into the web-like alleys of the city, out of sight. 

“I know,” he replied simply. They had come up on a manhole, and, to Olivier’s disdain, his comrades had opened it up and dropped into the underground. 

“I hate this,” she griped loudly, wanting to be anywhere but in a sewer. 

“It looks bad, but once you see it, you’ll be surprised. The climate here is way too hot to comfortably walk around in sewage, so we cleaned it up from our designated paths long ago,” Jericho said, watching as another one of his friends dropped inside. “What questions do you have first?”

“Well, I guess general questions about you and your little gang here are out of the question until we get to wherever you’re taking us,” Olivier replied with a frustrated frown, though the young man nodded calmly. 

Miles laid a hand on her shoulder, attempting to calm her annoyance, “What happened to your arms?”

“Starting with the personal questions, I see,” Jericho smiled back at them, already much more friendly than he had been during their first meeting. He then turned back to observe his comrades, “I lost both of them trying to take down a large-scale government facility. It worked, though, so I don’t see it as a loss.”

“Are they automail?” Miles asked again, thoroughly curious. 

“Technically,” Jericho stated, handing off his rifle to one of the men already inside the tunnel. He hopped inside with a quiet grunt before beckoning the two closer with his hand sticking up through the manhole. 

“I’ll let you down first,” Miles said softly to the lieutenant general, who gave him a sour look in reply. 

“I know you don’t want to go down there,” he began as he lifted her effortlessly by her underarms. 

The sudden lifting without her consent caused her to squirm somewhat, “ _ Fuck no _ I don’t!”

Without another word, the Ishvalan gently set her inside the tunnel; but what she did not expect was for two of Jericho’s companions to instantly be at her sides, helping her all the way through. 

One even flashed her a friendly smile as she got her footing. 

Once inside, she glanced around-- yes, it was very obviously a sewer system, but one that looked new. Its walls, while darkened with dirt from being underground, were free of any of the many unpleasant substances ever found in sewers. There was some sand underfoot, but the flooring was also free of such foul things. 

“Told you,” Jericho piped up, his tone still as calm, as Miles as also helped inside. 

One of the not-Ishvalan’s stood on his toes, closing the manhole as the others started making their way through the tunnel.

“They’re technically automail,” Jericho suddenly began again, “though the outer plating fell of about a year ago. Believe me, they looked much more like actual arms back then. It’s taking all we’ve got for them not to just fall to pieces.”

“Don’t you have a mechanic?” Olivier questioned, Miles once again at her side as they walked.

“I used to, but once you bust a big government facility like we did, you  _ kind of _ start to be seen as a criminal,” Jericho replied as one of his elbows seemed to spark lightly. “And once you’re branded a criminal, it gets kind of difficult to just waltz into the city to get repairs. I’m surprised I was able to get these arms at all, but it was only because I got them before our name gained notoriety.”

“I see,” Olivier murmured. “How far are we?”

“Not far.”

Their trek throughout the tunnel continued on for a while longer, primarily in silence, save for the friendly chatter between Jericho’s comrades. Gradually, they came upon a dead end.

Olivier opened her mouth to give a sarcastic comment about the Lost getting  _ lost _ in their own tunnel system, though she paused when a small crack of light flooded inside, cast upon the silhouettes ahead of her and her husband. 

“Welcome to Santuario,” Jericho spoke up as the strip of light grew as the false wall rolled away from them. “Lots of people here are the curious sort, so don’t be alarmed when they crowd you. They all mean well.”

Before she could ask the question of who the young man meant, Olivier blinked several times as her vision got used to the brightly lit area ahead of them. Miles did the same; she felt him squeeze her shoulder as his own eyes adjusted. 

Once they did, however, what they saw before them, they had not expected. Though still underground, the area the tunnel opened into was wide with a ceiling tall enough to house small makeshift shacks of different sizes. The width of this new room was a sight to behold as well; as artificial light sources lines the walls, there was enough space for several of these shacks to be lined up in several rows. 

All between the shacks, people similar in appearance to Jericho went about what seemed to be their daily lives. Some shacks resembles stalls, with merchants stationed at them, not unlike the sellers taking advantage of the festivals up topside. As the door had opened, several of these people glanced up, though upon recognizing their friends with their semi-automatic rifles and clad in tactical gear, they calmly continued whatever they were doing. 

“However many questions you had before, I’m sure that number has doubled by now,” Jericho began again, gesturing for the Amestrian soldiers to come closer. “And they’ll all be answered shortly. For now, follow me-- I’ll show you around.”

 

 

 


End file.
